Short Shorts and Morphos
by Funky932
Summary: There's a new serial killer in Las Vegas...  One who knows a certain CSI a little too well...  What feelings will surface as a result?  Rated T to be safe, but some upcoming chapters might be rated M. GSR with a little bit of CathRick.
1. Chapter 1

MONDAY

Gil Grissom sighed as he tried to maneuver his SUV down the sandy trail in the Las Vegas Springs Reserve Park. The GPS' mechanical voice was telling him where to go, but the sound of sirens was all he needed.

He was content, for he was working this case alone. Even though he loved working with his team, sometimes he enjoyed flying solo on cases.

Ah, his team. They were practically his family. He had no idea what he'd do without them.

He smiled as he remembered his last case he worked on. It was in an airplane, with none other than his spitfire colleague Sara Sidle.

_Grissom crouched in front of the airplane lavatory's toilet, and carefully held a portable light microscope to a stain and peered through it._

_"I take it that's not blood?" Sara's cynical voice came from behind him._

_"No, but there's protein in it." He replied, smiling._

_It took Sara a moment to understand. "Oh, the Mile High Club!" She chuckled._

_"You know," Grissom said after a moment, "it's said that having sex in an airplane enhances the sexual experience... increases euphoria."_

_"Well, it's good... I don't know if it's _that_ good..." she replied, pursing her lips._

_Grissom stopped and turned to her, eyebrows knitted together, a surprised smile playing across his lips._

_Sara quickly realized her error. "Cite your source." She said quickly._

_Grissom rolled his eyes. "Would you just hand me a swab?"_

_Sara beamed mischievously. "You're avoiding the question!"_

_Grissom sighed. "A magazine." He said after a moment._

_"What magazine." She shot back, her eyes narrowing playfully._

_"Applied Phsycodynamics in Forensic Science."_

_"Never heard of it."_

_"I'll get you a subscription."_

_Sara was silent, staring at him skeptically. "Now cite your source." He said after a moment's hesitation._

_Sara snorted, sending a fierce glare his direction. "Oh, now you want to go down that route?" _

_"Yeah." He met her gaze unwaveringly._

_She glanced away. "Yeah... uh... never mind."_

_"Hey, you started it." Grissom reminded her._

_ When she met his eyes again, he gave her "The Look"._

_Sara sighed. It was no use. "Delta Airlines," she began, "flight 1109, Boston-Miami, March '93, Ken Fuller. Hazel eyes, Organic Chem Lab TA, BMOC... overrated, in... every aspect."_

_Grissom's jaw had dropped. "Could we, um, get back to work, please?" She said, blushing._

Grissom smiled. He loved it when she blushed. It was so... cute.

Upon arriving at his destination, he lumbered out of the car, grabbed his crime scene kit, and went over to park ranger standing guard. "What do we have here, Officer?"

The ranger turned to him. "Female, young adult, late thirties possibly. Some hikers noticed the body at about 3 this afternoon. Uh... I'm no expert, but in this heat wave, shouldn't the body have decomposed?"

"That depends on TOD," he murmured as he ducked under the caution tape and walked purposefully to the body, the ranger on his heels.

He stopped upon seeing it. "_Morpho menelaus_," he muttered.

"Uh, pardon?" The ranger asked, confused.

The pale woman lay on her back with her limbs splayed. Her russet hair lay in waves on the ground and across her face and neck. Dried blood was spattered generously on her shirt, and pooled onto the ground. What piqued Grissom's attention was the metallic blue butterfly carefully pinned above the woman's breasts.

"_Morpho menelaus_, or Morpho butterfly. That's the type of butterfly on her chest," Grissom clarified.

He crouched by the woman, and after taking a few pictures, moved her hair away from her face to try and better determine appearance. He instantly noticed the dried blood on her neck. He gently tilted her head to take a look.

Etched into the woman's neck were three letters- ARI. His eyebrow hitched, and he snapped a picture or two.

He then pulled out his phone and beeped the lab. "Hey, get SuperDave out here, pronto. Yeah... thanks."

Two hours later, he joined Doc in the autopsy room. "What do you have for me, Doc?"

Using his crutch, Doc hobbled around the table to join him in looking over the body. "We've ID'ed the victim as a Miss Sherri Whitney. Age 35, made her living as a prostitute on the Strip."

"And the letters on her neck?" Grissom prompted.

Doc sighed. "We drew a blank," he admitted.

Grissom echoed his sigh. "All right. Thanks, Doc."

CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI

"Someone's looking fine!" whistled Nick as he met Catherine in the hallway later that day.

Catherine smirked. "What makes you say so?"

The two began walking to the break room. "Since when do you wear shorts as hot as those to work?" He replied.

She shrugged. "Well, seeing how it's triple digits outside, I figured why not?"

Grissom joined them a few feet outside the break room, and the three entered together, only to see that Sara, Greg, and Warrick had beat them to it, casually sipping the water-and-silt combination the lab called coffee.

Warrick grinned. "Sexy, Cath!"

Catherine ducked her head as a small blush appeared on her cheeks. She always did have a soft spot for Warrick.

Sara raised her eyebrows. "Don't get me wrong, Catherine, the shorts look great, but if I were you, I would be concerned for, oh, I don't know, hydrochloric acid getting on my legs?"

"Sara," Catherine responded, amused, "it's not that big of a deal to show some leg every once in a while!"

"You know," Greg piped up suddenly,, "I don't think I've ever seen Sara in shorts."

Sara arched her eyebrow in confusion.

Nick and Warrick grinned. "Me either," they said in unison.

Grissom nodded to show his agreement.

Catherine beamed. "All right, then, it's settled. We need to get you into some shorts."

Sara froze mid-sip, almost spilling her coffee. "What?"

"You heard her," Greg said, chuckling at Sara's response.

"Well," Sara asserted, "I can tell you right now there is no way I will wear shorts to work. It's a safety hazard. And you guys almost never even see me outside of work. Therefore," she concluded, "seeing me in shorts shall be essentially impossible."

"I think you're forgetting that Wednesday night is Movie Night. At your house." Catherine pointed out smugly.

Sara deflated. Everyone else laughed.

"Do I have to?" Sara said finally, pouting.

"Sara, I wouldn't mess with Catherine if I were you," Warrick advised.

Ignoring him, Sara leveled an even stare at Catherine. "What happens if I don't?"

"Weeeeeeell," Catherine drawled, lazily stirring her drink, "the boys here just might be receiving some confidential information."

Sara pursed her lips. "What kind of confidential information?"

Catherine paused for a second, keeping everyone in suspense. "A disturbingly explicit list of every single guy you've slept with since high school."

Everyone, including Sara, abruptly choked on their coffees.

After Sara recovered, she managed to ask, "How do I know you're not bluffing?"

Cath smiled sweetly in response. "Come outside for a sec, will ya?"

Sara uncertainly followed Catherine just outside the break room. All the men watched anxiously as Catherine began whispering in Sara's ear. Slowly, Sara's face turned pale, then flushed red.

While they were outside, Grissom pondered what would happen if he saw Sara in shorts. He still was unsure of what he felt for Sara, whether it was romantic love, or if he just cared for her because he knew her story better than the rest of the team. All he knew was that his heart skipped a beat whenever she entered a room.

All eyes were on Sara as the two women returned. Catherine had a smirk on her face.

"I'll do it." Sara mumbled.

All the guys, minus Grissom, exchanged excited glances.

Grissom, however, stared at Sara skeptically.. "Hang on, Catherine... how you know Sara even owns a pair of shorts?"

Sara made a face. "I do have shorts, thank you very much. They come in handy at clubs. Guys love girls in shorts!"

Everyone stared in shock. _Since when does Sara go to clubs?_

Sara smiled. "Ah, I kid about the club part. But yes, Grissom-" she fixed him with an indignant look- "I do own shorts."

**a/n: What do you guys think? It gets better from here, I promise! Please R&R. It really affects my writing. :D**


	2. Chapter 2

WEDNESDAY

"So where is the Great Grissom off to this time?" Sara inquired the next week as they strode down the hallway.

He sighed. "Floyd Lamb State Park. Normally the case wouldn't be ours to handle, but it's similar to the one in the Springs Preserve a few days ago."

Sara turned to him, surprised. "Oh, really? How so?"

Grissom flipped through the case file. "Well, a Morpho butterfly was pinned to a 35-year-old female's chest. She also has three letters cut into the side of her neck."

Sara shuddered. "How... pleasant."

"So," Grissom said, changing the topic, "are you ready for Movie Night tonight?"

Sara abruptly stopped in her tracks and slapped her hand on his mouth. "Shh!" she hissed. "Don't let Catherine hear you! She might remember!"

Grissom's arms pricked with goosebumps at her touch. But he couldn't help but chuckle at Sara's seriousness. He tried to talk, but it just came out as a "mmmpf".

Sara smiled, and removed her hand. "Catherine won't forget," he said, grinning back.

She sighed. "One can only hope."

They walked down the hall in silence, until Sara said "do you want help on your case? I just closed mine."

Grissom turned to her. Although he had looked forward to solving the case on his own, he knew he would benefit from having the tawny-haired spitfire at his side- in more ways than one.

"Sure," he replied.

Grissom couldn't understand it. He really couldn't.

Before him, on the autopsy table, lay the newest victim from Floyd Lamb State Park. The similarities between this body and the one from the Springs Preserve were uncanny.

The butterfly, of course, he had noticed immediately, its iridescent colors had glimmered in the intense sunlight. He had checked her neck checked her neck and found three more letters- SSE. He also noted her tawny hair and her pale skin. After the body was transported to the lab, SuperDave had identified the body as that of 35-year-old Sierra Miranda, who had lived in Las Vegas, working as a stripper.

Frustrated, Grissom took out a large pad of paper, and wrote out all six letters- A R I S S E. He studied the words he had just made. Was it a name? Couldn't be. An anagram for a company? No, too long.

Sighing, he turned his attention away from the the letters and turned his attention to the two Morpho butterflies. He was not unfamiliar with them, he had two in his office, and had given one to Sara for the holidays a few years back. He smiled as he remembered how amazed she was by the beautiful colors.

_"What's this?" Sara asked, glancing up from the microscope._

_ Grissom set a small green-and-red wrapped box on the table. "For the holidays."_

_ Sara giggled. "Grissom, you didn't have to get me anything!"_

_ He did not find the matter as funny as Sara did. "I absolutely did have to get you something! Not only are you very much deserving of a holiday gift, but I would feel terrible if I didn't get you one, especially after you gave me one!"_

_ Sara grinned broadly. "I still don't see what the huge deal is about a Taylor's checkerspot butterfly!"_

_ Grissom frowned. She was teasing him; that's what she was doing. "Sara, the Taylor's checkerspot is a very rare butterfly," he explained gently, as if he were talking to a child. _

_ Playing dumb, Sara responded "Oh, they're rare? I just thought it was pretty!"_

_ Grissom smiled at her softly. "Seriously, thank you for the gift. I wanted to give you this to repay you."_

_ Sara eyed him. "Repay? That's not the point of gifts."_

_ Grissom rolled his eyes. "Sara, just open it? Please?"_

_ Sara chuckled. "All right, all right."_

_ She carefully slipped off the red ribbon, and placed it ceremoniously on Grissom's head, tilting it slightly so it looked like a crown. _

_ Grissom gave her a "really?" look. She grinned, and turned her attention back to the gift, cautiously peeling back the festive wrapping paper, only to discover a cardboard box._

_ She took the wrapping paper and, folding it into one long, flat piece, wrapped it loosely around Grissom's neck, and tied it in a neat bow. _

_ "Sara, is this really necessary?" Grissom protested._

_ "It is absolutely necessary!" Sara retorted. "Now hush and let me have some fun!"_

_ She gently lifted the lid of the cardboard box, only to be met with an overflow of packing peanuts. She gingerly slipped her hand under the peanuts and let her fingers explore the box until they found a sharp corner. She grasped the corner and gently pulled it to the surface._

_ Grissom smiled tenderly as he watched Sara pull the glass box out of the cardboard one. Painstakingly pinned to the back of the box was a vividly colored blue butterfly. Its metallic cerulean hues shimmered under the overhead lights. A soft smile spread across her face as her gaze lay transfixed on the stunning butterfly._

_ "Grissom... this is beautiful." She said finally._

_ "A Morpho butterfly. Found mainly in South America. Not necessarily rare, but a true sight to behold. I, uh..." he coughed. "I remembered you observing the one in my office, so I had one shipped in for you."_

_ Sara smiled warmly at him. "Thank you, Griss." And before he could do anything, she walked around the table and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug._

_ Grissom's face softened, and his arms snaked around her ribcage to return the hug. After a few seconds, Sara pulled away. "You know..." she said thoughtfully, "you _did_ put way too many packing peanuts in here..." And with that, she snatched a large handful and sprinkled them over his head._

_ He raised an eyebrow. Then he picked up a handful of his own and tossed them at her._

_ Sara gave a soft shriek and, after grabbing another handful, escaped to the other side of the table._

_ Narrowing his eyes wickedly, Grissom picked up another bunch of peanuts and followed her, tossing them at her as he went. Soon, the room was snowing packing peanuts._

_ The two laughed at each other, and Grissom tenderly combed a few packing peanuts out of her hair. Sara smiled and shivered slightly at his touch._

_ Suddenly, someone cleared their throat. Sara and Grissom whipped around to see Catherine leaning against the door frame, a sly look on her face._

_ It was terribly silent for several long awkward seconds, then Catherine sighed loudly. "Fine, 'I saw nothing.'" She winked at the two of them and walked away._

"Hey," said Sara, walking into the room.

"Hm?" Grissom mumbled, snapping out of his reverie.

"Shift's over." She said gently.

"Oh... okay."

Sara cracked a smile. "See you tonight?"

Grissom smiled back. He had to admit, he was looking forward to seeing her in shorts. "See you then."

**a/n: R&R! Pretty please? **

**Want to know how to make my writing a lot better?**

**Click the "review" button and type a little something-something. :  
**

**Next chapter- Movie Night! :D  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**a/n: OH. MY. LORDY. I'm so sorry, guys. **

**Apparently Chapter One never uploaded right, and an entire section was skipped out on. I'm about to upload the correct version. So sorry that the whole Griss being excited about seeing Sara in shorts part seemed kinda random; that's why.  
**

**As an apology, you guys get two chapters this rainy Sunday! Enjoy!**

WEDNESDAY EVENING**  
**

Sara frowned, staring at her twin in the mirror. She had a feeling she was going to regret this Movie Night.

Her hair, like usual, had been straightened, but that was just about the only normal thing about her outfit.

Catherine had called earlier and persuaded her to wear a tank top to go with the shorts, assuring Sara she would join in the shorts/tank top combo as well.

So, not wanting Catherine to leak "The List" (She was still unsure of how Catherine had managed to get all that info), Sara had donned the required clothing, and applied some strategic natural makeup.

She exited her bedroom, and made her way to the kitchen, but something at the window caught her eye. She paused and strode quickly to it and peered around the forest green curtains. She saw nothing. _Odd. I could have sworn I saw a person there. _

Her heart beat a wild tune. _Could it be?... No, that's impossible. _She shook off the feeling and continued to the kitchen.

Since Greg was bringing the movies, Warrick was buying booze, and Grissom had agreed to stop by a pizza place, Sara decided to make some popcorn- after all, it was Movie Night. Just as she was sliding the bag into the microwave, someone knocked at the door.

"It's open!" Sara called. Grissom stepped in.

He felt as if time had gone into slow motion, as Sara turned to face him. Her auburn hair lay in the slightest of waves around her face. Her light smattering of freckles and her full lips stood out by use of light makeup. The tight black tank top she wore not only made her look even slimmer than she already was, but the low cut, Grissom noted with slight embarrassment, complimented her breasts nicely, revealing much cleavage. True to her word, Sara also wore denim short shorts, accentuating her long, slender, pale legs. He couldn't take his eyes off them as she walked, graceful as a gazelle, to greet him.

"Thanks for bringing the pizzas," Sara said, snapping Grissom out of his reverie.

"Oh, uh, no problem," Grissom replied as Sara took the boxes from him and set them on the coffee table. "The rest are helping Warrick with the booze." he added after a moment.

Sara stopped short. _ Four people just to bring beer? That doesn't sound good. _"Grissom," she said after a moment, "exactly how much booze did Warrick bring?"

Before Grissom could answer her, Greg walked through the door. After taking one look at Sara, his jaw promptly dropped. So did the case of beer he was carrying. Right on his foot.

Grissom hurriedly picked up the booze and sat it down next to the pizzas as Sara helped a whimpering Greg to a couch.

"Whoa, Sara, uh.. you look h-" he coughed. "Really good."

Sara smiled shyly. "Thanks, Greggo."

"Looking good, doll!" Nick exclaimed, strolling in, carrying a case of booze in each hand.

Sara offered him another shy smile and a mumbled thank-you as she took the beer from him and set it with Greg's case.

She was just about to take the popcorn out of the microwave when Catherine waltzed in. "Now, that, ladies and gents, is how Sara Sidle should dress every day!" She declared, hip-checking Sara's waist, showing off their similar outfits.

By now, Sara had receded into a state of shyness. Catherine set the case of booze she was holding with the others, and looked Sara up and down. "That right there is one smoking hot chica!" She trilled.

Sara blushed again. Before she could reply, she heard Warrick's joking voice- "Sara... you _actually_ do own a pair of shorts? Whatayaknow!"

"Doesn't she looked hot in them?" Catherine beamed as she took the two cases Warrick was carrying, adding them to the pile.

Warrick grinned, and gave Sara a hug. "Definitely sexy," he murmured.

Sara turned to the coffee table. _That is a _lot_ of booze._ She counted a total of 6 cases. _One for each of us... well that's just great._

Grissom began to believe Sara's face was stained a permanent rosy pink from the attention. But it disappeared as the attention shifted from her to Greg, as he pulled out various comedy titles such as both Wayne's Worlds, The Proposal, and Little Miss Sunshine, as well as some oldies like Modern Times, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and Duck Soup.

It was unanimously decided that Duck Soup should be first. Sara set up the DVD player as everyone else found a seat- Warrick and Catherine shared the loveseat, lonely Greg got the recliner, and Grissom and Nick took the couch.

Having pressed play, Sara sat at the edge of the couch, next to Nick. He scooted over slightly so he could give her more room.

Not five seconds later, Sara stood up again. "Shoot, the popcorn," she muttered, tiptoeing delicately to the kitchen. Nick took the opportunity to shift into a laying down position, with his head on the armrest where Sara was only just sitting, and propped up his feet on Grissom's knee. Grissom turned and gave Nick an "are you serious?" look. Nick grinned.

"Hey!" Sara said, giggling, having returned with the popcorn. The entire team laughed as Sara, after handing Grissom the popcorn, vainly tried to move Nick's head. "You stole my seat!" She complained.

"You move it, you lose it!" Nick chuckled.

Finally, Sara was able to lift up Nick's head up just enough so she could slip under it to regain possession of her seat. But to her surprise, instead of moving, Nick lowered his head back to where it was before, consequently on her lap.

It took Sara a moment to register exactly where Nick's head was. She felt confused... yet... kind of liked it.

Catherine stared at Nick with raised eyebrows. When he turned to meet her gaze, his hair tickled Sara's slender legs.

"Nick," said Greg, chuckling rather awkwardly, "you do know your head is in Sara's lap, right?"

Nick's hair tickled Sara again as he shifted his head. "Yeah, and? It's rather comfy... not that you would know!" he cracked.

Everyone except Greg laughed, lightening the awkward mood. "Ooh, she got you, boy!" Warrick hooted.

Then, Greg silenced everyone by asking smugly "How do you know that I wouldn't know? Like we say in the lab- who knows what goes on behind closed doors?" He winked to prove his point.

Not a sound was made for a few seconds, before Sara busted out laughing. "You guys actually believe Greg?"

The hysterics started all over again. Greg made a face at Sara. "Way to ruin my bluff."

"Aw, you're just jealous of my first-class seat," Nick teased.

Before Greg could reply, Sara silenced them. "Sshhh, the movie's starting!"

As everyone turned their attention to the screen, Grissom, who had said nothing since the others had entered, shot Sara a curious look. His gaze drifted down to Nick, then back up to meet her eyes, as if to ask what was going on between the two of them.

Sara shrugged, mouthed "I have no idea", and gave a little half-smile. She then turned her attention to the Marx brothers.

Grissom was slightly alarmed to note the burning fury he felt in him when he watched Nick and Sara practically cuddling on the couch. Was it anger? Lust? Jealousy? Arousal? Concern? Spite?

All of the above?

Grissom didn't know, but he now knew one thing for sure- he definitely had a crush on a certain fiery CSI.

**a/n: Please review! :P**


	4. Chapter 4

THURSDAY

The rest of the night had been pretty uneventful, not counting Nick and Sara. What had irked Grissom even more than Nick's head on Sara's lap was that whenever she wasn't drinking her beer, it was resting on Nick's shoulder, the one opposite her, so that her arm was always in a somewhat cradled position around Nick's head.

The only good part was that he got to stay after everyone else left. He had offered to clean up with her, and she had gladly accepted.

Sara set to scavenging around her living room, trying to find all the empty beer bottles, while Grissom dropped to his knees and collected stray pieces of popcorn.

He hated to bring up the topic, but he had to know, for they hadn't talked about it in a while. "Sara..." he hesitantly began. "Have been having any trouble from your stalker lately?"

Sara froze. She turned to face him and bit her lip. "No..." she replied quietly. "Not since the last time..."

_Grissom's office was cold from the winter air outside. He turned to the thermostat and cranked it up a few more degrees._

_ Suddenly, his phone rang. "Grissom." He mumbled in greeting._

_ "Dr. Grissom, sir, could you please tell Sara to come to the front desk? There is a visitor here to see her, and she isn't responding to her phone." Trudy, the receptionist, replied._

_ His eyebrows knitted together. "Okay... yeah. Sure."_

_ He hung up and trudged out of his office, eyes peeled for an auburn head._

_ As he had predicted, he found her in Trace, peering into a microscope. "Sara."_

_ She started. "God, Grissom, don't do that!" Her hand fluttered to her heart._

_ He smiled. "Sorry. Trudy said there's a visitor for you by the front desk. You're not answering your phone."_

_ Frowning, Sara pulled it out of her pocket and checked the display. "Oh, what do you know." She said, the frown contorting into a grin. "I guess I'm not."_

_ She stood and turned to Grissom. "Care to join me?"_

_ "Always." He smiled softly, and the two walked to the receptionist area._

_ As soon as they entered, a fair-skinned brunette man stood and began walking up to them._

_ Sara froze and paled. Her shaking hand reached up and clutched his shoulder, her fingernails digging into his skin. "Grissom," she hissed._

_ Before Grissom could answer her, the man smiled, showing a row of perfect white teeth, with the exception of one gold crown with a cut-out of a butterfly. What startled Grissom was that the man's left eye was brown, while the right was blue._

_ "Hello, Sara." The man said. _

_ "H-hello." Sara replied nervously. She wanted to do something; call security, flare her Sidle temper, anything to get him away. But she could do nothing._

_ "Uh, can I help you?" Grissom asked, discreetly stepping in front of Sara protectively._

_ The man smiled again. "Sara, care to introduce me to Grissom?"_

_ Sara paused. "How do you know Grissom's name?"_

_ The man was starting to remind Grissom of the Cheshire cat, for the smile never left his face. "I know many things about you, dearest." Cheshire man told her._

_ Sara's face was stone. "You know nothing of me."_

_ THe smiled. "Oh, but I do. I know you work here -how else could I have found you?-, I know your coworkers -Catherine is a doll, by the way-, and I even know where you live."_

_Sara flinched. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't that constitute as being a stalker, not to mention a creep?"_

_"Yeah, it does. It's a felony in the state of Nevada, punishable by jail time," Grissom butted in._

_Ignoring Grissom, Sara narrowed her eyes at Cheshire man. "Look," she said. Her voice trembled. "Get out of here. Now."  
_

_Cheshire man winked his blue eye. "You wouldn't miss me?"  
_

_"You heard her. If you don't get off my CSI's back, I'm reporting you to security," Grissom threatened._

_"Fine, I'm going," the man said, putting his hands up in defeat. "But Sara," he added, "you'll be seeing me around."_

_ With that, the man turned on his heel and left._

_ Grissom faced Sara. "Sara... who was that?"_

_ Sara took a deep breath, trying to calm her trembling body. "That, Grissom," she said shakily, "was my ex-boyfriend, Ken Fuller."_

"You're sure you haven't seen him since then?" He had to know.

"I'm sure," Sara replied. She chose not to mention her little scare earlier that night.


	5. Chapter 5

**a/n: Hey, guys! Before we start on Chapter Five, I wanted to say a few things.**

**Firstly, thank you all so much for the kind reviews! They really make my day!**

**Secondly, I don't know how late I am on this... but there's a CSI game on Facebook! It's called Crime City or something like that... it's lots of fun!**

**And finally, my cousin is a physic. She and her husband went on a trip to New Zealand, and she sent me a beautiful necklace- it's of a butterfly. The wings are made of a dark blue, metallic-y, turquoise stone... sound familiar? :D**

**(If it doesn't sound familiar, it looks like a Morpho butterfly. Also, a blue butterfly is the main symbol of GSR.)**

**Anyways, I'm done! Enjoy Chapter Five! The team decides to take a vay-cay...  
**

FRIDAY

Grissom sighed. It had been several days since the first and second bodies were found, and another had not yet been discovered. His theory of a serial killer being the culprit was slowly going down the drain.

He passed by Catherine on his way to his office. She had a victorious smirk on her face. Grissom pondered whether he should be suspicious. He decided it was normal Catherine activity, and moved on.

Since everyone's cases were reaching a lull, and the upcoming weekend was predicted to be bright, sunny, and almost 120 degrees, Catherine, using her flirt and her charisma, had convinced Ecklie (who isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed) that the team would most likely suffocate in the stuffy lab, and if the high temperatures kept up all day, the bodies would likely decompose within hours, therefore filling the lab with an irremovable stench.

Ecklie's face had paled slightly at the thought of all the help he would have to hire as a result, and with a wave of his hand, granted Grissom's team permission to have the weekend off.

Catherine, being the social butterfly she was, had decided to organize a team outing. She was, however, unsure of where to go to satisfy everyone's interests.

So Catherine decided to take charge and go interview all her coworkers on where they would want to go.

She first found Greg and Nick in the break room, sitting at a table. "Greg, Nicky." She greeted them with a smile and a wink (intended for Nick).

"What's up, sister?" Nick replied.

She slapped both hands on the table and stared Nick straight in the eyes. "If you had a whole weekend to do whatever you wanted with your team, where would you go?"

"Somewhere with cotton candy!" Greg piped up. "Oh... and churros. I like churros... Let's not forget beer. Ah... Beer..." Greg's eyes slowly glazed over.

Nick and Catherine watched, slightly weirded out. After Greg had been silent for several seconds, Catherine turned back to Nick. "So?"

Nick thought for a minute. "Somewhere we can cool off. Like a pool or something."

Catherine nodded. "'Kay, thanks." She turned on her heel and left.

Next, she found Warrick in Trace, carefully bent over a bloodstained shirt, dripping some chemical onto it.

"Hey, beautiful. What's new?" Warrick said without looking up.

Catherine blushed and bit her lip. _Damn Warrick. Always makes me blush._ "I'm trying to plan a team outing. I'm seeing where people would want to go. Care to donate your opinion?"

Warrick gently put down the dropper and straightened. "Somewhere with roller coasters," he said finally, grinning. "We're all stressed out. Roller coasters are the _perfect_ stress reliever!"

Catherine pursed her lips. "That might be a problem."

Warrick raised his eyebrows. "You don't like them?"

Catherine blushed slightly. "No. Too scary."

Warrick's jaw dropped exaggeratedly. "I don't believe it. The great Catherine Willows-" his voice dropped to a dramatic baritone at her name- "is afraid of roller coasters?"

Catherine punched his arm. "Not too loud."

Warrick grinned toothily. "In that case, make sure we go somewhere with roller coasters, so I can take you on one."

"Only if you hold my hand; I'll be to scared to go alone," Catherine shot back.

Warrick grinned. "I wouldn't dream of not holding your hand. But we _are_ going to buy pictures."

"Fine," Catherine huffed. "I'm going to go find the others and see what they want." With that, she spun around and sauntered out, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

She found the two remaining team members in Grissom's office, discussing their case. She knocked on the wall and stepped in.

"What's up?" Sara said by way of greeting.

"Ecklie's giving us the whole weekend off. I'm trying to organize a team outing. Any suggestions on where we go?"

"A butterfly sanctuary," Grissom replied, not missing a beat.

Catherine rolled her eyes. After a moment, she said, "You know, I would accuse you of only wanting to go because of your case, but the problem is you _actually_ like butterflies."

Sara laughed loudly. "Well, I want to go too, so it's legitimate."

Catherine shot Sara a look. "Sara, I know you by now. You're the workaholic; I think all three of us know _you_ want to go to a butterfly sanctuary for the case."

Sara blushed and looked away.

Catherine sighed. "Fine, I'll keep it in mind... just someone tell me a place we can go to that has butterflies, roller coasters, beer, cotton candy, and a pool."

The words had only just come out of her mouth when the perfect site popped into her mind. "Grissom!" She said suddenly. "I'm going home for a second; I'll be right back." When Grissom only nodded, she raced out of the office and down to her car.

She was pretty sure she knew the perfect place, she just needed something to confirm it.

Thankfully, she lived only a short ten-minute drive away from the lab, so she got to her house in no time. She sprinted to her bedroom, barely breaking stride to say hello to Della, her adorable terrier, and yanked open her nightstand drawer. She hurriedly sifted through the mass of papers until she found the brightly colored map. She sighed in relief. Last time she went there was with Lindsey, for her birthday some years ago.

Catherine stood, returned to her car, and made the return trip back to the lab in half the time. As she walked up to the building, catching her breath, she texted Gil, asking him to round up the team.

Before she entered the building, she briefly glanced up at the sky. The sun was just beginning to rise. Good. If they left today, they would arrive with plenty of weekend time for fun.

She strode into the break room, only to have five pairs of impatient eyes turn to her. Catherine smiled, happy to have all the attention on her. She took the map out of her purse and slapped it down onto the table.

Sara was first to snatch it. "Six Flags Discovery Kingdom," she read. She gave Catherine an "are you serious?" look.

Catherine shrugged. "Best place I could think of."

"Let me see that," Warrick said, taking the map from Sara. "Isn't this in, like, Vallejo? Why not go to Magic Mountain? It's closer."

"Because," Catherine replied, shooting a meaningful glance at Sara and Grissom, "Magic Mountain doesn't have a butterfly garden."

Grissom and Sara beamed.

"Besides," Catherine added, "people tend to bond on road trips."

Greg glanced up from his magazine. "Is there beer?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Whose car can comfortably fit six?" She asked, ignoring Greg.

"I've got a van," Nick piped up.

Catherine beamed. "Great; you'll drive first."

She turned to address everyone. "All right, everyone go home, pack, and be back here by..." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "8:00 sharp."

Catherine tapped her foot impatiently. It was 8:05, and the only people who were here was Nick and Warrick.

Her mood lightened when Sara's Prius pulled into the parking lot. She waved her over.

Several minutes later, Grissom's Civic and Greg's Camry screeched in simultaneously.

"Sorry I'm late!" Greg huffed, only to be met with a death glare from Catherine.

"Put your bag in the car, Greg." She growled.

"We all here?" Grissom queried, heaving his bag into the trunk.

"We are now," Catherine responded rather icily.

Nick hopped in the driver's seat, and Greg called shotgun. Catherine sat on the bench behind them, and Warrick slipped in beside her, much to her delight. Grissom and Sara exchanged glances, shrugged, and crawled past Catherine and Warrick to claim the last bench.

"And thus starts hour one of our eight-hour journey," Sara sighed as Nick pulled out of the parking lot. Everyone laughed.

"No worries, I brought gum!" Greg chirped.

Everyone rolled their eyes, but asked for some anyways.

It was silent for a few minutes while everyone chewed their gum. Suddenly, Warrick spoke up. "You know what's weird? How there's only two ladies on the team, but four guys."

Catherine turned to exchange a glace with Sara, and they giggled.

"Because," said Nick, "if we had any more, us men would get too distracted!"

Everyone laughed. "Yeah, good thing they're both taken!" Greg quipped.

Catherine and Sara both raised their eyebrows. "What makes you think that, Greg?" Catherine replied, her interrogative tone slowly taking over.

The three other men turned to face him, wondering the same thing.

"What, you're not?" Greg seemed kind of embarrassed.

"Hank cheated on me, if you recall," Sara reminded him. Grissom squeezed her hand comfortingly when her voice cracked slightly.

"Cath, weren't you having a thing with Detective Vartann?" Warrick shifted slightly so he could face her.

"He, uh, wanted to move too fast for me," Catherine replied uneasily.

It was awkwardly silent until Sara spoke up. "I'm going to get some sleep."

Everyone minus Nick murmured agreement, and they all shifted about in their seats, trying to get comfortable.

The only noise that could be heard for a while was the hum of the tires, as first Sara, then Catherine, then Grissom, drifted into unconsciousness.

As Nick maneuvered the SUV about the highway, he noticed something in the rearview mirror. "Greg," he whispered, "look behind you and tell me what you see."

Greg complied. "Warrick and Catherine, Sara and Grissom?" He answered, confused.

Nick sighed. "Yeah, but what are Sara and Grissom doing?"

Greg shrugged. "I dunno, I can't see. Hey, Warrick!" He softly called to the dark-skinned man behind him. "Do us a favor, look behind you and tell us what Sara and Grissom are doing!"

Warrick arched one eyebrow, but did as he was asked. He had to put a hand over his mouth in an attempt to silence his chuckle.

Grissom had shifted so he was lying on the seat, and now his head rested comfortably in Sara's lap. Sara's arm snaked around his shoulder, where his hand clutched hers. Sara, of course, was conked out too; her head nestled against the window.

Warrick turned back around. "Guys, you gotta see this. Give me a camera."

Greg immediately reached for the small backpack he had brought along and fished out a small digital camera.

Careful not to wake Catherine, Warrick positioned the camera so no detail was left out, and pressed the shutter. He passed the camera back up to Greg, who took one look and busted out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Nick demanded. Greg angled the camera so it faced the buff driver. Nick took his eyes off the road for a few brief seconds so he could see.

Nick snickered. "Keep that, Greg. Never know when it'll come in handy for blackmail."

Warrick turned back around and hissed "Grissom!"

"Huh?" Grissom awoke with a start. He quickly realized where he was and righted himself, taking painstaking care to remove Sara's arm as to not wake her.

"Was I just..." Grissom trailed off, gesturing towards Sara, who still thankfully slept soundly.

Warrick tittered and grinned. "We got it on camera."

Grissom shot the three younger CSIs a death glare. "Fuck you all."

They all chuckled, then fell silent. Soon sleep claimed Warrick, as Grissom, unable to fall asleep, stole Sara's etymology textbook from her suitcase- the one he bought her for Christmas.. He smiled at the fact that she had brought it along.

Just as Greg was about to join Cath, Sara, and Warrick in the realm of slumber, Grissom hissed his name.

He turned. Grissom pointed to Catherine and Warrick in front of him, trying to stifle a giggle.

Catherine's head was leaning on Warrick's shoulder, and his head used hers for support. His arm had strayed onto Catherine's thigh, where it clasped her hand.

Greg smiled. "Aw, cute little lovebirds." He fished out the camera and snapped a few pictures.

Nick turned for a few seconds so he could see. "What's up with all the love going around? I'm not insinuating that Greg and I should have a bromance, but I think I speak for him as well when I say we feel unloved."

Greg nodded his agreement, but shot him a dramatically horrified look at the mention of a bromance. "Ask Sara to give you some love later on," he commented.

"What's this about me and love?" A voice thick with sleep was heard from the back, as Sara stirred and yawned.

"Oh, don't worry, Sara, just... go back to sleep," Greg cajoled uneasily, not wanting Sara to know the contents of their conversation.

Grissom, looking for revenge from the picture, interjected with "Greg thinks you and Nick are going to have sex later."

Before Sara could reply, Greg shot back, with "Well, Grissom was asleep on your lap!"

The car suddenly became very loud as it was filled with a mess of unintelligible words from Grissom and Greg. That is, until Sara interrupted. "I'm just... gonna... uh, go back to sleep... and hope this is all a dream." And with that, she leaned her head against the window and her eyes flickered shut once again.

Grissom and Greg exchanged glances and began tittering.

Nick shot them a look from the rearview mirror. "Poor thing's gonna be confused as hell when she wakes up."

"You're just worried about her because it means no love for you!" Greg teased.

"Hey, Nick, we gonna stop for lunch soon? Besides, you should let someone else drive," Grissom piped up, noting the rather late time on the dashboard clock.

"Sure, Griss. I'll see what everyone wants- just wake them up for me, will you?"

Greg turned and tapped Warrick's knee, waking him. He was just as startled as Grissom to find himself in an intimate position with his female coworker. "We got it on camera," Greg reassured him.

Warrick roused Catherine as Grissom gently woke Sara. Both men chose not to mention the embarrassing encounters to their feminine colleagues.

Keeping an eye on all his friends sitting behind him by use of the rearview mirror, Nick asked "Okay, where you guys wanna stop for lunch?"

"Hamburgers!" Warrick replied immediately.

"You're forgetting our vegetarian." Grissom reminded him, glancing at Sara, who was still in the process of waking up.

"Oh, yeah," conceded Warrick sheepishly.

"Let's just exit and see what we find," Catherine suggested.

Everyone seemed on board with that idea, so Nick took the next exit, over which a sign hung that read "Bakersfield".

They drove rather aimlessly for a few minutes, until Greg spotted a hamburger joint that proudly advertised its many vegetarian options. Warrick, happy to be dining at his original choice, clapped Greg on the back. Nick spun a U-ie and headed to the restaurant.

The van pulled into a parking spot, and a chorus of groans was soon heard as the six friends got out and began stretching their legs.

They entered the building just as a nearby clock tower chimed one. They found a half-circle booth in the corner and settled comfortably into it- Catherine sat between Warrick and Nick, Sara between Nick and Grissom, and Greg squeezed in at the end next to Warrick.

A cute waitress quickly came up to them, and after smiling flirtatiously at Greg, handed them all menus. Warrick shot a knowing look at Greg, who only smirked back.

Not wanting an incident in the van, they all ordered Cokes instead of their usual beers. The waitress flounced off to get them.

"Cath, you're the one who planned this, how much longer till we get there?" queried Greg.

Catherine's eyes rolled up as she tried to remember the map. "Um… we're in Bakersfield, so… about four or five more hours."

Everyone groaned, but their angst was soon soothed as the waitress brought their Cokes, and they decided to finally look at the menus.

"Veggie burger," Sara said automatically as she put her menu back on the table.

"Turkey burger with lettuce and extra pickles," Grissom grunted.

"I'm in the mood for a quarter-pounder," Nick added.

"Cath, wanna split some chicken strips with me?" Warrick asked, glancing at the pretty strawberry-blonde woman beside him.

Catherine smiled shyly and nodded.

Everyone turned to Greg, wondering what he would order.

"Do you think they have dinosaur chicken nuggets here?" Greg said finally.

Everyone busted out in wild guffaws. Greg blushed. "Fine, I'll take a cheeseburger with tomatoes."

Everyone agreed on sharing a large basket of curly fries, and when the waitress came back, they all gave her their orders- but Greg gave her his number on a napkin as well.

"You think she'll call you?" Nick snickered.

Greg grinned hopelessly. "A guy can always dream!"

The team chit-chatted until their food arrived, steaming hot and smelling amazing. They enthusiastically dug in.

45 minutes later, they were back on the road, this time with Greg on the wheel, and Sara and Grissom had stolen Warrick and Catherine's seats, and Nick occupying Greg's former spot.

Grissom had once again stolen Sara's textbook, and was flipping through it. He smiled at the notes she had scrawled in about the bugs in the margins.

He glanced at the owner of the book, who was sleeping beside him. He vowed to one day tell her his true feelings.


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n: Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated in a while! Between vacations, school, and personal issues, there hasn't been much time.**

**This chapter is a little bit far-fetched, and I was going to remove it, but my beta for this chapter, gsr309, assures me it's fine. Special thanks to her on this one.  
**

FRIDAY EVENING

"Wow, Catherine, I must say- I am impressed!" Sara marveled as they (at last!) pulled up to their hotel.

The large Marriott hotel building loomed before them, the setting sun framing the silhouette perfectly. Greg found a parking spot near the ornate front entrance, and they all grabbed their suitcases and traipsed inside.

Catherine dragged Warrick with her to go check in at the receptionist's desk, while the other four loitered about the center of the lobby, where velvet chaises and couches stood, offering relief for their achy legs.

Sara watched Catherine's almost unnaturally shiny hair bounce as she talked animatedly with the receptionist. She caught Warrick gazing at her with an admiring look in his eyes. Sara chuckled. _Catherine and Warrick- yeah, I can see that._

A few minutes later, Catherine and Warrick returned. "Okay. We're all on the 5th floor. Grissom and Warrick, you guys have Room 46. Sara, you and me are in Room 47. Greg, you and Nicky have Room 48." Catherine stated, issuing hotel key cards as she went.

"Oh, gee, we're stuck between the boys' rooms. Nice." Sara commented dryly as they lugged their bags to the elevator.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure the ladies Greg and I bring in aren't screamers!" Nick teased as he pressed the elevator button and the doors _whooshed_ shut.

Everyone laughed as the elevator rose to the 5th floor. They wandered down the hall until they found Room 46.

Warrick used the key card to unlock the door as Nick helped Grissom hoist their suitcases inside.

"Hey, party in me and Sara's room after you guys unpack," Catherine added as Grissom and Warrick slipped inside their room.

"Why _our _room?" Sara complained as she and Catherine went next door to Room 47, as Nick and Greg went to the room adjacent to the women's.

Sara sighed and couldn't help but smile as she took in the earthen tones, the two identical but comfy-looking beds, the wide screen TV that sat opposite, and the beautiful view from the balcony. She grabbed an apple from the kitchenette next door to the bathroom.

"I'm putting this in here so the boys don't get at it," said Catherine quickly, whipping bras and other lingerie items out of her suitcase and carefully placing them in a drawer in the bathroom.

Sara watched her and, finishing her apple quickly, stood and unzipped her suitcase.

"Why did you bring lingerie anyways?" Sara murmured, half to herself, but she grabbed her own too. She hadn't really brought lingerie; unless you counted the knee-length scarlet satin nightgown… that happened to have a lacy hem and neckline…

Catherine paused to observe the bathroom. Two terrycloth robes hung near a shelf of towels. The shower was full of hotel-size bottles of shampoo and conditioner. Catherine stole a bottle of moisturizer from the counter by the sink and massaged some into her hands.

Returning to the main room, Catherine squealed "Dibs on this bed!" as she flopped down on the one nearest the balcony.

Sara honestly didn't care so she set her suitcase at the foot of the other bed. She had only just unzipped it when a knock came from the door.

The two grumbled in unison.

"Really?" Catherine groaned as she went to open it. "Give _us_ some time to unpack, why don'cha?"

She reluctantly opened the door anyways, as all four men waltzed past her into the room- carrying… beer?

"Where'd you guys get booze?" Sara asked incredulously.

Greg beamed. "I had the foresight to warn my fellow male compatriots. We each brought a six-pack."

"Which is why Greg and I were late earlier today," Grissom informed them.

Catherine laughed. "You two are officially forgiven," she told them, taking a beer out of the cardboard packaging and handing it to Sara, and then took one for herself.

The friends situated themselves so that they were evenly dispersed between the two beds- Sara and Cath each claimed their own, but Sara shared hers with Nick and Greg, while Warrick and Grissom flopped down onto Cath's bed.

After the six-pack had been passed about the room, Warrick suddenly smacked his head. "Shit! Greg, I left my key card in your room."

"How'd it get there?" Catherine asked, curious.

"I left it there when I went to their room before coming here to see who was bringing the booze," Warrick replied.

Then, turning back to Greg, Warrick wheedled, "Could you go get it for me? Pleeease?" When Greg shook his head, Warrick turned to Nick. "Help a brother out?"

Nick tossed him the key card to Room 48. "I'm not going, but you can go get it yourself."

Warrick pouted as all the others chuckled.

He knew he had charm with Catherine, so he turned to her. "You wanna…?"

Catherine groaned and stood. She hated how he could make her do things without even batting an eye. "Fine. But Sara, you're coming with me. That way, if Greg's suitcase swallows me up, I'll have backup."

Chuckling, Sara followed Catherine out the door.

After a few seconds of silence, Greg stood. "I gotta piss." With that, he trudged to the bathroom and shut the door.

The three remaining men began to make awkward small talk until Greg suddenly burst out the door, holding… something red and satin.

"Is that… lingerie?" Nick narrowed his eyes at the object, trying to figure it out.

"I found it while looking for moisturizer," Greg said smugly, and held up the object by its two spaghetti straps so the other men could see it clearly.

They all raised their eyebrows. "Is it Sara's or Catherine's?" Nick asked finally.

Grissom snorted. "Look at how tiny that thing is! Only Sara's frame could pull off something like that."

There was an awkward silence as they all turned to Grissom with a "WTF?" look on their face. Grissom went red and looked away.

Greg spoke first, breaking the silence. "I've got a whole drawer-full of stuff back there."

Nick and Warrick immediately stood to follow Greg into the bathroom. Grissom chose to stay behind. "How so very immature of you," he called after them.

"You sure? We just found one of Sara's lacy bras!" Warrick coaxed from the bathroom.

Though Grissom so desperately wanted to see it, he shot back, "What makes you think I would be interested in it?"

Before Warrick could reply, Grissom heard the women's voices from outside the door. "Guys, they're coming back," he hissed.

He heard the slam of the drawer being closed, and a second later, the three young men bounced back onto the beds. "We got souvenirs," Warrick whispered, grinning, as he held up two of Catherine's bras, and Greg stuffed Sara's nightgown into his jacket pocket.

Warrick stashed the bras under the bed just as Sara and Catherine entered, tossing Warrick's key card onto the bed. "There ya go." Catherine sighed, retaking her spot on the bed.

"Thanks, ladies," Warrick replied sweetly.

Within a few minutes, the six had struck up a friendly debate over which ride at the park was worthy of being the first one.

"I think you're all forgetting I'm the only one who has even been there in recent years," Catherine pointed out.

"True, but you never even went on any of the coasters," Warrick teased.

She scowled and fell silent.

"I've heard lots of good things about Medusa," Nick insisted. "It's supposed to be the park's best ride."

"Also the scariest," Sara remarked with a small gulp.

Greg happened to glance at the time. "Well, if you guys want to get anywhere tomorrow, we all need our sleep. It's going on midnight."

Sighing, the men stood to go. Greg distracted the ladies so Warrick could whisk away the bras he had stolen.

"Guy party at me and Greggo's room," Nick whispered as soon as he was out of earshot of the ladies.

"Night, boys!" The women waved from the door, the turned away as it shut.

Catherine sighed. "Let's go to bed."

Sara plodded into the bathroom to get her nightgown- only to discover it missing. "Hey, Cath, you do anything with my nightgown?"

"No…" Catherine joined Sara in the bathroom as they stared down at the open drawer. "Hey, a few of my favorite bras are gone!"

They exchanged a glance. "The guys," they said in unison.

They stalked out the door, on the warpath. But they were forced to pause in the hallway, unsure which room held their belongings. Putting a delicate finger to her lips, Sara motioned to Room 48, where a crack of light could be seen from under the door.

Catherine knocked softly. "Let us in before we break down the door!" She hissed.

Grissom politely opened it, as a protest was heard from in the room. "I did nothing," he stated, stepping aside so they could come in.

Sara's and Catherine's jaws dropped as they took in the scene. Sara's nightgown hung like a portrait over Nick's bed, where he lounged and watched Greg. Greg had _put on_ one of Catherine's bras (he stuffed, of course) and the other he whirled above his head like a whip as he danced crazily about the room, while Warrick pretended to stuff bills down the ex-lab rat's shirt.

Catherine and Sara discreetly shared a look and nodded. Catherine immediately launched herself at Greg, while Sara pounced on the bed, trying to reach her nightgown.

Catherine rolled to the floor, Greg in her grasp. Quickly, Warrick dropped to the ground to help him.

Meanwhile, Nick caught Sara before she could grab her nightgown, and wrestled her to the bed. He straddled her so she couldn't move and pinned her wrists above her head. "Griss, I need backup!" he called to the man still standing at the door, as the spitfire he held under him writhed like a bull at a rodeo.

Grissom's eyebrows shot up, but he did as he was told. He had to admit, he was somewhat eager to get Nick off Sara as he pulled her to her feet and interlocked his arms with hers, so they were pinned behind her back.

A few seconds later, Warrick emerged from the floor, holding Catherine in a similar pose.

Nick beamed. "We win!"

Warrick chuckled. "What shall we do with our prisoners?"

"I swear to God, I'll call hotel security," Catherine muttered. Warrick quickly untangled one of his hands and slipped it across her mouth.

Greg suddenly got an idea. He grinned wickedly. "Well, we do happen to have their lingerie… why not make them model it?"

Sara and Catherine shared stunned glances.

Sara quickly squirmed out of Grissom's grasp and escaped to the other side of the room. "Hell. No." _What has gotten into my friends?_

"Actually, I like that idea," Warrick said, smirking. Catherine tried to turn to slap him, but he just held her tighter.

_I guess since the Las Vegas effect doesn't work on us, the Vallejo effect will have to do,_ Sara thought.

Suddenly a thought occurred to her. She stopped in her tracks, allowing Nick to capture her. "You know, Cath," she said slowly to her fellow captive, "these guys won't let us go until we give them what they want. So why not?"

Catherine's eyes widened in shock at Sara betrayal, but she could say nothing, for Warrick's hand was still on her mouth. All the guys looked equally surprised. They had expected Catherine to be the one to cajole Sara into it.

Nick was first to take action. "All right then. Greg, take off the bra. Griss, get Sara's nightgown from the wall." Beckoning for Warrick to follow him, they brought the two women to the door of the bathroom and nudged them inside, tossing their lacy undergarments in just before shutting the door.

"Are you insane?" Catherine hissed as soon as the men were out of earshot.

"Just work with me," Sara murmured as she sprang into action. "Change into one of the bras. I hope you're wearing acceptable undies, because just wear those and the bra," she instructed as she slipped off her clothes and slipped on her comfortable nightgown.

Hesitantly, Catherine obliged. Mimicking a model, she struck an exaggerated pose. "How's this?"

"Good. You look sexy," Sara added softly, grinning.

Catherine smiled back for what seemed like the first time that night. "Hey, look who's talking, hot stuff."

Sara then turned and smiled- her hunch was correct. "None of the guys have taken showers yet, so the robes are still here." She grabbed one and handed it to Catherine. "Put it on," she whispered, as she slid her arms through the sleeves of the other one.

Finally catching on, Catherine smirked. "Sara Sidle, you are a mother-freaking genius."

Sara dramatically flipped her hair. "So they tell me," she said in a hushed but valley-girl-esque tone.

They giggled. Then Catherine, putting on her most seductive voice, called loudly, "Oh, boys? Sara and I are just about ready, but why don't one of you do us a favor and put our clothes in our room, so we don't have to worry our pretty little heads about it later?"

Sara snickered softly as the boys conversed quietly for a second. Then Warrick spoke up. "Yeah, sure, pass 'em through."

Sara grabbed their clothes, balled them up, and handed them, along with their key card, to Catherine. Catherine opened the door a crack, and slipped the items through into Warrick's waiting hands.

A few minutes later, they heard Warrick call "Okay, I'm back."

Sara and Catherine exchanged glances, somewhat nervous. What if it didn't work? What if one of them got caught?

Putting a finger to her lips, Sara pressed her ear against the door to eavesdrop on the men's conversation.

"I can't believe they're actually doing it," they heard Greg whisper.

"Don't try to understand it; just enjoy it!" Warrick replied, chuckling.

"Whatever," Grissom mumbled. He was trying too hard to keep down that erotic feeling in his groin. _Oh, why me?_

Taking her ear off the door, Sara turned to Catherine, securing the sash around her robe. "Ready?"

Catherine adjusted hers. "Ready."

Trying to sound as sexy as possible, Sara called "All right, boys, we're ready!"

Catherine pushed open the door a tiny crack, and she and Sara slipped out, proudly showing off the white robes.

The men cracked up. "Ooh, doing a striptease, are we?" Nick tittered.

Sara raked her gaze about the room, trying to find her and Catherine's key card. She found it on the table and discreetly grabbed it.

She gave Catherine a silent signal, then waited a few seconds.

"Now!" she hissed.

The two made a mad dash towards the door. Before the men could do anything, they had slipped out, back to their hotel rooms, gasping for air.

"Ha! That was amazing!" Catherine panted, high-fiving her equally out of breath colleague. She shrugged off the robe and tossed it unceremoniously onto the floor.

Sara beamed victoriously and slipped off her robe. "That was fun. But now I'm pooped."

She was just about to get into bed, when she heard a knock at the door. "It's me and Warrick. Nick and Greg sent us- they want their robes back," she heard Grissom call from the door.

Not thinking, Sara pulled the door open, despite a squeak from Catherine. "Sara, need I remind you why we stole the robes in the first place?" She hissed.

But it was too late. Grissom's and Warrick's jaws had already dropped.

Catherine sighed, irritated.

"Well, well, looks like we get a show after all!" Warrick exclaimed rather awkwardly, nudging Grissom. Warrick couldn't take his eyes off the half-naked Catherine.

Sara rolled her eyes. She grabbed the robes from the floor and shoved them at Warrick. "Just take them, okay?" We'll see you guys tomorrow," she added in a softer voice. She winked at them as the door clicked shut.

Neither Warrick nor Grissom moved.

Grissom tried to take the image out of his head- the way the crimson satin made Sara's pale skin look even paler in comparison, consequently making her lush copper hair stand out. They way those long, slender legs moved gracefully, as the black lace crinkled when she moved. The way… he stopped and shook his head. _What am I doing?_ He thought, frantically trying to erase the thoughts from his mind.

"You got a thing for Catherine, I see," he stated finally, clearing his throat.

Warrick, shocked, turned to him. "What? Naw…" he snorted, trying to conceal the obvious denial.

Grissom gave him a look. "Oh, please. It's pretty obvious."

"As obvious as how much you like Sara?" Warrick shot back.

Grissom gaped. "I do no such thing."

Warrick snickered. "Don't tell my secret; I won't tell yours."

Grissom sighed, defeated. "Deal."

The two friends trudged back to their room in silence.

XXXX

Sara groaned and flipped onto her stomach, further entangling herself in the bed sheets. The neon green numbers of the alarm clock by the nightstand blinked 2:35.

She had not been able to get _any_ sleep. She had tossed and turned the entire night.

Sighing, she stood to go get her etymology textbook. The words she had spoken to Hodges and Nick several months back echoed in her mind- _Etymology textbook. Grissom gave it to me last Christmas. When I can't sleep, I read._

She frowned, rummaging through her suitcase. She was sure she'd packed it.

She paused as she remembered in the car, those brief few seconds she'd been awake. Hadn't she seen Grissom holding it?

She closed her eyes, trying to remember. Yes, she was almost sure of it. Grissom should know where it was.

Not wanting to give another "show", she slipped on a robe from the bathroom to hide her scantily dressed figure. Grabbing her key card, she silently opened the door and slipped out into the hall.

Her hand rose and balled into a fist to knock Grissom and Warrick's door. Just before her knuckles came into contact with the oak wood, she heard a smooth voice from behind her purr- "Hello, Sara."

She whipped around. "What are you doing here?" She hissed.

The man chuckled. "What, I can't visit an old girlfriend?"

Sara stared deep into Ken's mismatched eyes, trying to make herself seem less afraid. "You can't when you're stalking that old girlfriend."

He chuckled again, and pulled out a wickedly sharp dagger. "Against the wall, sweetie." He gently prodded her back with it.

Shaking, Sara obliged, her cheek resting against the harshly bright floral design. He grabbed her wrists and held them behind her back.

She closed her eyes, not wanting to see anything. She felt sick.

"Step away from her." A low voice suddenly hissed. Sara, afraid of Ken's reaction, didn't move, keeping her eyes closed.

"Heyy, easy, man, don't fire that thing." Ken cautioned, laughing nervously. Sara could tell instantly the other man had a gun.

Sara heard the click of the safety being turned off on the gun. "Step away from her. Get out of here. Be glad I'm not calling police."

She silently breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the cold object on her neck being pulled away, and his hands removed themselves.

"Now get out of here before I shoot this thing." The other man warned.

Sara heard footsteps running down the hall.

She was instantly enveloped in a tight embrace, and she recognized the smell of Grissom's cologne. She collapsed in his arms, quaking in his grasp.

"I heard voices outside," he whispered simply.

Grissom listened to her shaky, uneven breaths, and let his chin rest on her head. He stroked her hair rhythmically in an attempt to calm her down.

"What were you doing out here?" He asked after a moment.

"I couldn't find my textbook, I thought you might have it," came the muffled reply.

Grissom could have smacked himself. He'd put her textbook into his suitcase by mistake.

"Honey, I'm sorry," he murmured.

She sniffled. "It's fine."

She pulled away from his grasp. "We'd best be getting back to sleep."

He eyed her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

When she nodded, he said, "Okay. Good night."

They disappeared back into their rooms.

Sara leaned against the closed door, trying to calm herself down.

Her fingers found their way to the inside of her left wrist. The long, thin scars were indeed there, and they stood out thanks to the rush of blood now pumping through her.

She rubbed the area where the scars were, and let her gaze travel up to the nondescript ceiling. She sighed. She had promised herself she wouldn't do this.

Yet, here she was.

Sighing, Sara stood, walked to the kitchenette, and grabbed an orange and a knife.

**a/n: Why did Greg want the ladies to do a show for them? What is Sara going to do with the knife? WHERE IS THE ETYMOLOGY TEXTBOOK?**

**All that and more to be revealed in upcoming chapters. Review please! :D  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**a/n: Hey, guys! Sorry this one took a while. With writer's block, family issues, and new braces (ow!), I haven't gotten in much writing time.**

**I want to send a special thank-you to a very talented writer- SweetSouthernComfort. She beta'd this one chapter for me, and I'm quite jealous of sidle77, who stole her as an official beta :P  
**

SATURDAY MORNING

Sara woke early to a still-dark sky and a headache. She headed down to the 24-hour hotel gift shop and bought aspirin and several wooden bangles, which she quickly slipped onto her left wrist.

Back in the hotel room, Catherine had yet to wake up, so Sara lay in hey bed and drifted into unconsciousness once again.

Next thing she knew, her eyes blinked open sleepily. Watery sunlight filtered through the glass door leading out to the balcony, but several figures were blocking it.

She tried to move, but suddenly became aware of a large weight on her.

"Ha! Sara's up!" said the owner of the weight.

"Nick, please get off me," she grunted. He was straddling her, and his face was pressed close to her face not unlike a child ogling a toy through a window.

Nick obliged. "What time is it?" Sara asked him.

"Quarter to nine," Nick replied. "Everyone else is downstairs eating breakfast, but Grissom and I agreed to wait with you up here."

"Thanks," she said, suddenly aware of the third man's presence. He was leaning on Catherine's bed, reading the paper.

"Help me up?" She wheedled. Chuckling, Nick reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Wait, you actually sleep in that?" Nick, for some reason, couldn't stop staring at her. Sara suddenly remembered- she was wearing her nightgown.

She crossed her arms, somewhat self-conscious. "Yeah, it's called a nightgown for a reason," she answered.

Grissom only buried his nose deeper into the newspaper. The last thing he needed this morning was another erection. He was thankful she had been wearing a robe last night… for most of the time he saw her, anyways.

Sara pulled some clothes from her suitcase and slipped into the bathroom. "Let me just freshen up… Nick, no stealing my bras!"

"Too late!" Nick joked back.

Grissom rolled his eyes.

He stared at the newspaper, but the black ink meant nothing to him. The letters swam across the page, making no sense.

This infatuation with Sara was beginning to drive him insane. He was beginning to have dreams –yes, regular dreams– about her. She filled his mind, occupied every possible space, her and her sweet, tropical scent. It was like coconut and sugarcane… with the slightest hint of banana. That scent was like heaven on earth. It was quite well known back at the lab. So much so, in fact, one could practically determine whether she was even in the building or not simply by taking a whiff.

Seeing her in that skimpy nightgown yesterday certainly did not help his problem. The dream he had had that night definitely most erotic by far- and holding her after Ken had left certainly did not help.

_She was all over him. Her hands caressed his chest and tangled in his hair. Her legs –oh, those smooth, pale legs– curled around his waist and rubbed against his thigh, making him shiver with pleasure._

_ She kissed him passionately, and he eagerly returned the favor. Their tongues danced to the tune of their heartbeats as they explored each other's mouths._

_ He longed to tear off the crimson satin and dark black lace that concealed her beautiful, slim body. He reached for the zipper, but her hand nudged him away. "Not yet," she breathed, her hands skimming across his chest._

_ They stopped at the top button of his shirt, and she quickly undid it with nimble hands._

_ His breath caught in his throat._

_Smiling faintly, she leaned in and continued to ardently kiss him, undoing the rest of the buttons all the while. After she had unbuttoned the last one, she easily slipped the shirt off, and ran her hands across the newly exposed skin._

_Grissom melted at her touch. _

_After a little while, he decided it was his turn to be in control. He tore himself away from her and pushed her onto the bed (at least, he thought it was a bed- one can never be sure in dreams). He fell with her and let their lips reconnect, as their tongues flicked about. His hands splayed across her bottom and lower back as hers clutched at his neck._

_ He chose to torture her, as he pulled away to turn his attentions elsewhere. Sara seemed slightly disappointed that he had ended the kiss, but it soon disintegrated as he began using lips, tongue, and teeth to explore the contours of her neck._

_ She trembled and moaned as his teeth left tattoos on her neck, and threw her head back, allowing him better access._

_ He reached once again for the zipper of her nightgown, and this time she didn't object. He slowly pulled it down, and he was just about to slip off the garment-_

_ When he woke, in a cold sweat. He sighed. _

_ His mind was officially in the gutter._

"Okay, let's roll." Sara breezed out of the bathroom, bringing Grissom back to reality.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" Catherine called as she caught sight of Sara entering the hotel's dining hall, flanked by Nick and Grissom.

Sara yawned as she grabbed a croissant. "Morning."

The six sat at the table, silently munching on their breakfast.

"Well, the Kingdom of Discovery awaits- let's move!" Warrick joked after a few minutes, standing up.

Everyone else hurriedly finished their breakfasts and then they all tromped out to the van.

"I'll drive," Sara offered.

"Hell no!" Nick replied immediately.

"What, you don't trust my driving?" she said indignantly.

"Sorry, sweetie, I'm with Nick on this one. You're not exactly the safest driver," Catherine added.

Sara made a face, unhappy that her colleagues did not trust her and her driving. She instead sat with Warrick in the very back, with Catherine riding shotgun next to Greg. Grissom and Nick squeezed in the middle.

It was silent in the car… too silent, in Greg's opinion. So, taking a deep breath, he began singing. "99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beeeeer!"

Everyone groaned. "Greg! Is that necessary?" Sara complained. She was cut off, though, by her own yawn.

Grissom turned. "Tired from last night?" he murmured in a low voice.

Sara's eyes flashed at the mention. "I'm fine," she whispered back.

Grissom's eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

A short while later, several massive, colorful structures came into view on the freeway.

Catherine grinned excitedly. "There it is!"

Fifteen minutes later, they had parked, bought admission, and had just entered the magical land of fun.

Nick rubbed his hands together. "Okay, where do we start?"

"I'm taking Cath on a roller coaster," Warrick said immediately. Realizing his intentions, Grissom gave him a knowing smile and wink.

"Well, I think we should all ride Medusa at the end of the day," Greg piped up.

Everyone seemed to second that notion.

Nick glanced at Greg. "Care to try out the carnival games with me?"

Greg grinned and rubbed his hands together. "Whack-a-Mole is no match for the Great Sanders."

Grissom glanced at Sara. "Butterfly garden?"

Sara chuckled. "You know it."

The three pairs went off in different directions, promising to meet at noon for lunch. Pulling out their copy of the map of the amusement park, Sara and Grissom easily figured out the quickest way to the butterfly garden. They walked in silence.

They finally reached the greenhouse-like building. In order to get inside, they first had to walk through a doorframe from which hung sheets of thick plastic material, not unlike the ones seen at grocery stores. "It's to prevent the butterflies from escaping," explained Grissom.

They walked through the double doors side by side.

The two smiled at the sight that greeted them. It was like a small oasis- a small waterfall one could walk under fell into a small lagoon where koi fish darted about. The room was filled with innumerable plants and trees, and woven between them were walkways for the people. And, of course, flitting through the air, resting on a plant or railing, or even greeting people, were butterflies of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

Sara grinned broadly and tilted her head up, taking in the full view. Suddenly, a bright blue butterfly fluttered up and landed on the tip of her nose.

Both she and Grissom froze. "Grissom, is that...?" She trailed off.

Grissom nodded as he took out his camera. "That's definitely a Morpho."

The two laughed at the coincidence as Grissom snapped several pictures of Sara's giggling face and the iridescently blue butterfly. Eventually, Sara gently shooed the butterfly away so she and Grissom could walk about.

They strolled about the garden- down the walkways, under the waterfall. Sara couldn't help but think that it would be the perfect romantic morning- if they were a couple.

How she wished that last part were true.

Sighing, she paused and sat down on a bench to check her cell.

Sitting next to her, Grissom asked, "Do you recognize that one?"

Glancing up, Sara followed his gaze, to a tree where a butterfly lazily fluttered his checked black-and-orange wings.

Sara smiled. "Of course. It's a Taylor's Checkerspot, like the one I gave you for the holidays."

"Yeah. Oh, look, another Morpho…" Grissom pointed to another cerulean butterfly.

He quickly became lost in a world of his own as he began pointing out all sorts of different butterflies. Small ones, big ones, rare ones- he knew the name of every single one.

Sara watched the love of her life's eyes light up as he observed the graceful insects his life practically revolved around.

Why did it have to be bugs? It wasn't that Sara hated bugs; she didn't have any problems with them- other than the fact that _they_ were the center of Grissom's life… they were, and not her.

Not her.

_Why do men need things literally spelled out for them?_ Sara thought angrily as Grissom pointed out a swallowtail.

She sighed and nudged him. "Hey, which butterfly is that?" She joked, pointing to the large plastic butterfly that adorned the sign of the gift shop next door.

"Very funny," he said sarcastically, but there was a twinkle in his eye. Giggling, they got up and headed inside the gift shop.

The gist shop was full of little butterfly-related trinkets- garden ornaments, jewelry, stickers, pens and pencils. Sara picked out a beautiful silver butterfly necklace, with wings made of azurite. After a moment's hesitation, she took the matching bracelet as well.

For himself, Grissom managed to find an identical key chain. Sara smirked.

"Copycat," she teased as she paid for her jewelry.

She slipped the bracelet onto her left wrist, next to her bangles, and Grissom helped her put on the necklace. It took everything in her power not to shiver at his touch- but it absolutely melted her inside.

"Can I see the bracelet?" Grissom asked as they walked outside. Sara held out her hand.

He pushed the bangles up higher on her arm so he could get a better view of her most recent purchase. He hooked one finger under the bracelet so he could inspect the tiny chain.

He suddenly noticed four oblong, red scars on the inside of her wrist, hiding behind the bracelet. He frowned, and his eyebrows knit together in bewilderment.

Sara tensed, realizing he had noticed them. _Shiiiiiiit._

"Sara." His voice was taut. "What's this?"

She jerked her arm away. "It's nothing," she said abruptly.

Grissom wasn't falling for it. He grabbed her wrist again. "Sara. What are those on your wrist."

When she didn't answer, he led her to a nearby bench under a shady willow. Her eyes were downcast, refusing to meet his.

He sat her down on the bench, and he situated himself next to her, their knees touching.

He took her left wrist again and pushed both the bangles and the butterfly bracelet back up her arm to examine the scars. They were quite fresh; scabs were just beginning to form.

He peered closer. He was pretty sure he even saw other ones, too. Very, very pale, practically unnoticeable. Those had been from a long time ago.

The entire time, Sara stared at the ground in front of her. She did not want to face her supervisor. But deep down- she wanted him to know.

_Come on, Grissom. You should be able to piece this together. 2+2=4. First two is Ken, second two is those goddamn cuts you seem so interested in. Do the math._

Confusion clouded Grissom's usually clear eyes. His rough fingers traced the four incisions that ran horizontally across Sara's wrist.

After a second, his mouth fell open a little bit. His eyebrows knitted together as he glanced up to stare at Sara's stoic face.

"Sara…" He said slowly, trying to comprehend. "Did you… cut yourself?"

_And there's the four._

For several seconds there was silence. Sara only stared straight ahead and bit her lip, as Grissom watched at her with intense blue eyes.

Grissom's mind reeled. Sara… cut herself? Sara. The one woman he knew who _never, ever_ was weak. She was always the strong one. She never broke down.

"I always thought it was my fault." Sara admitted finally. Her voice was slow, controlled, robotic.

"What was?" he prompted immediately.

"My parent's problems. The arguing, the hitting… the stabbing." Her voice cracked.

She cleared her throat and continued. "While I was in foster care, I sometimes didn't exactly have the, uh, best substitute parents. That's when I first started."

Hesitantly, Grissom reached for her right hand. To his relief, Sara accepted the show of support and grasped it tightly. He saw her eyes begin to get glossy.

"I thought… I was so terrible. That everything was my fault. That if I didn't exist, my father would still be alive. That my parents would be living together, happily. And half of my foster parents wouldn't hate me.

"As I grew up, and left foster care, I began to see more clearly. I realized that… it couldn't have been helped. So I stopped, and the scars slowly faded.

"Then Ken came. At first… it was fun. He was the ideal boyfriend. He would, you know, call every day, take me out a lot…"

"Have sex in an airplane?" Grissom said.

Sara's eyes flashed at the mention. But she continued. "Then, one day, he changed. Just like that. He began going out to bars a lot, getting drunk. He would come home, and… and…" she trailed off, unable to confess.

"Tell me, Sara. It's okay," Grissom said, trying to reassure her. "What did he do? Did he physically or emotionally abuse you? Rape you? Neglect you?"

Sara bowed her head as a tear rolled down her cheek. "All of the above," she choked out in a hoarse voice.

Grissom's gritted his teeth, and covered her hand with both of his.

"Do you remember… when you saw me at the Forensic Academy conference?" She queried, turning to face him for the first time.

Grissom nodded wordlessly.

"I had escaped two days ago."

Grissom thought about the Sara he had seen then. She had been quite thin, he recalled- not that she wasn't now, but her skin was drawn over her cheekbones much tighter back then.

He suddenly remembered he had been startled by a large bruise on the right side of her cheek, the color softened by makeup- but it was still visible.

He hung his head. He should have guessed something…

"I stopped cutting right after I met you," Sara stated abruptly.

Grissom wasn't sure what to say, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Seeing Ken… it brought back the memories."

She slipped her hand out of his and held her left wrist, staring at the almost unnoticeable scars. "The scars… they're more visible when my heart beats faster. Because the blood pumps faster. Like when I'm scared, or excited, et cetera." Her fingers ran unconsciously over them. "I was in my hotel room after Ken left, and I noticed them. The rest… is history." She took a long, shaky sigh, and another tear rolled down her cheek.

Wordlessly, Grissom pulled her into hug.

She sniffled, but refused to break down. She leaned on his shoulder, one hand braced on his chest. His arms held her tightly, wrapped around the dip between her ribcage and her pelvis.

His chin rested on the top of her head, as his shirt was gradually stained with salty tears.

"I'm so sorry," a muffled voice came from his shoulder.

He removed one hand from her side, without breaking the hug, and used it to tilt her chin up towards his face. "Honey, don't say sorry to me."

They both suddenly froze, realizing their extremely close proximity. They became trapped in each other's eyes, staring intensely.

Grissom did his best not to let his gaze drop to Sara's slightly parted lips. God, he wanted to kiss her.

Suddenly, he felt himself unconsciously leaning in.

_Stop it! _He told himself. _You fucking idiot, stop! _But his body seemed to not be responding.

Seeing his actions, Sara's eyes widened slightly, but to her own surprise, began to reciprocate.

All of Grissom's old inhibitions and fears deserted him as soon as her soft lips touched his. Her hand slipped out of his, only to wind itself around his neck, her bony fingers tangling themselves in his salt-and-pepper hair.

His arms, having nothing else to do, wound tighter around her ribcage, as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

She was fully aware of several people frowning upon their little PDA, right there on the bench of the amusement park, but at that moment in time, she really didn't give a fuck. She felt Grissom's hands slowly but surely moving down her back, and she couldn't help but give a soft moan. The gentle _ba bum, ba bum _of her veins roared in her ears as she felt the epinephrine pulse through her body feverishly.

As her lips moved in synchronization with his, she suddenly felt something. Something… odd. No, no, it wasn't _that_ type of something. Something… out of place.

His mouth froze at the same time hers did as Sara felt a vibrating sensation on the bottom of her ribcage. Slowly, almost regrettably, Grissom tore his lips away, and their eyes fluttered open at the same time.

They stared into each other's eyes awkwardly, their lips inches apart. Grissom moved first, wriggling away from her and fishing his cell phone out of his pocket. He kept one hand on hers as he flipped the phone open with his other.

"H-hello?" His voice sounded small, weak, out of breath.

"Gil? Where do you want to meet for lunch?" Cath's voice floated out of the receiver.

Sara watched Grissom as he talked to Catherine, their moment forever ruined. But damn, it had been a good one.

"Uh…" He looked wildly around him, trying to remember where they were. "Let's meet at the pizza place by Boomerang."

"We're on our way," came her chirpy reply.

Grissom closed his phone and turned his head to gaze at Sara. She bit her lip and gave a tiny shrug.

"Sara, we can't do this," he said finally, sighing.

Her eyes flashed. "Why?" Her whisper had an almost pleading tinge to it.

"Sara, I'm your supervisor. Coworkers _cannot_ be in relationships; it says so in the code book."

He knew his excuse was a lame one. He did not want to tell her the true reason.

He knew she could so much better than him. What did she see in him, anyways? He was a fifty-year-old man, who was a bug-obsessed workaholic. How on earth is that attractive? Not to mention his body was definitely not nearly as toned as Nick or Warrick. And admittedly, he wasn't exactly a spring chicken in bed anymore. Sara was a beautiful, suave, thirty-five year old woman.

Yes, she could do so much better.

He hated to admit it, but he was scared of Sara. Terrified, actually. The slightest thing she did could have the hugest effect on him. He did not want to learn what could happen is she was his.

If he dug even deeper down in his conscience, he found that he was afraid of losing Sara once he had her. She was still young, able to arouse interest. After they had been in a relationship for a while, what if she found someone new? Someone younger, more handsome, more fit? She would leave him in an instant- and break his heart. He didn't think he would be able to bear that.

Meanwhile, a frustrated Sara stood, jerking her hand away from his. "Fine." She said simply. _I guess you didn't feel what I just felt._

She turned and began walking away, pushing the bracelets back down her arm as she went. She blinked furiously in an attempt to keep back the tears.

"Whe-where are you going?" Grissom called weakly.

Sara turned and gave him a look. "To meet the team for lunch?"

Then she left without him.

Grissom was startled to notice something as she walked away from him- even from several feet away, and even though they were hidden by the bracelets and the four fresh scars, he could clearly see many, many long, white streaks lining the inside of her wrist.

XXXXXXXX

When Grissom arrived at the pizza place, everyone else (including Sara) was already there, munching on slices of pizza generously sprinkled with miscellaneous vegetables.

He slipped in between Greg and Catherine, and smoothly joined in the conversation. He couldn't help but feel a flash of envy when he saw Nick's arm around Sara's shoulder. Her eyes looked red. He wondered how much Sara had told the Texan.

He quickly shook his head. Had he not _just_ told Sara that they could not be in a relationship? He _needed_ her to move on.

They animatedly discussed their plans for the rest of the day. Sara, Nick, and Warrick all agreed to ride a few roller coasters. The other three members of the team decided to go investigate the animal characteristics of the funland.

The former quickly found a good-looking roller coaster, on which a sign screamed "KONG" in capital letters. Nick and Warrick, being the little lids they were, quickly sprinted ahead to secure a spot in line.

Sara lagged behind, watching them. She smiled.

Warrick was like her big brother. He would be the one to beat up anyone who gave her trouble, or the one who teased her just because he could. He was the only one who could get away with it, actually.

As for Nick, he was more like her best friend. Always there for a hug, or a shoulder to cry on. Always ready to talk.

_These_, she thought, _are truly the greatest men in my life. Not like _other_ men in my life,_ she thought bitterly, reveling in the memories made not an hour ago.

After walking down the winding walkways, she finally joined them in line, and a few minutes later, the gates blocking the people from the ride _whooshed_ open.

Since each row only sat two, Warrick stole the seat next to Sara before Nick could get to it. Sara giggled as Nick mock pouted, and went to the row behind them.

She was grateful to get her mind off her upsetting escapade with her supervisor as the car climbed up the cliché yet always anticipated steep incline.

When the car began hurtling down the track, Sara shrieked along with the rest of the park-goers on the ride as it swooshed left, right, upside down, even into a triple corkscrew. Her chestnut hair whipped her face as Warrick, riding next to her, whooped, feeling the rush of adrenaline.

Within minutes, the ride was gently brought to a halt, back where they had started. Laughing crazily, the three best friends stumbled off and in search of the next ride.

The next hour and a half was a blur to Sara as they flew from roller coaster to roller coaster, having the time of their lives.

Suddenly, Warrick noticed the other half of the team, oohing and aahing at tigers prowling about their enclosure. He snuck up behind Catherine and whispered in her ear, "You owe me a roller coaster ride."

Catherine spun around, her eyes widened. Her hand fluttered to her heart, trying to calm it down. "Warrick, do that again and I'll personally kick your ass to Miami."

He snickered. "Well, you do owe me."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll go on a ride with you." She turned to Grissom and Greg. "Me and Warrick are off."

Sara winked at Catherine suggestively, who only rolled her eyes in response. Then she and Warrick left, leaving Greg, Sara, Grissom, and Nick.

Nick turned to Greg. "Did you ride the elephant yet?"

Greg gaped, incredulous. "You can ride elephants here?"

Nick chuckled. "I take that as a no. Come on, let's go."

And suddenly, it was just Sara and Grissom.

He sighed. _Well… this is awkward._

He was currently a few feet away from Sara, who pretended she was busy by leaning against a railing, examining a monkey in its enclosure.

He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper curls. "Sara."

Sara did not turn to acknowledge him, but did speak. "Grissom, whatever you're going to say about what happened… just save it. I really don't want to hear it."

Grissom narrowed his eyes. "Sara, it's something we need to talk about."

She whipped around, the adorable monkey she was watching forgotten in an instant. "Grissom, what more is there to discuss? We kissed, and you stopped us, meaning you don't want a relationship." Her hands gripped the metal railing agitatedly.

"Sara, we cannot do this. We cannot be in a relationship." Grissom stated. He purposely chose to not actually deny he didn't _want_ a relationship.

She exhaled sharply, her breath hissing though that adorable gap in her teeth. "And why not, Grissom? Forget about what people would think, forget about the lab's goddamn rules. Just ask yourself this- would you actually want to be in a relationship with me, if the opportunity presented itself again?"

Grissom was silent, pondering what to say to her. Of course he wanted to be in a relationship with her… but he was afraid of it.

Sara hissed through her teeth again. "Grissom, you think way too much." She turned away from him, back to the monkey. "Just… forget I said anything. Forget this ever happened."

Grissom watched her for a few seconds. Then, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her upper back.

Sara froze, her hands balled into fists at her side. "Grissom," she mumbled around his chest, "what are you doing?"

He felt as if someone was controlling his body, his mouth, his thoughts. "If nothing ever happened, then we're still the same old friends, right?"

Sara pursed her lips for a second. Then her arms snaked around his ribcage. "Yeah, I can play along with that."

XXXX

Several minutes later, Nick and Greg rejoined them. "That elephant ride was _awesome_!" Greg enthused, waving around a picture of him and Warrick riding the elephant.

"Hey, Sara," Greg piped up, "how'za bout you and me go head to head in bumper cars?"

"Bumper cars? Sounds fun!" Catherine's voice floated to their ears, and all four turned to see her, along with Warrick, coming their way.

"She went on a roller coaster!" Warrick declared triumphantly. "And she loved it!"

Catherine blushed. "It was fun."

"Because Warrick held your hand?" Sara whispered to her as she passed.

Catherine stuck out her tongue at her.

"Hey! How about _all_ of us go on the bumper cars together?" Nick suggested.

Everyone enthusiastically agreed, so within minutes, they were waiting in line for the popular attraction.

When the bored-looking teenage attendant finally allowed them through, Warrick and Nick made beelines for identical jet-blue cars. The rest took their time, Catherine picking out a nice purple one, Grissom plopping down in a green car, and Sara and Greg taking matching fire-red vehicles.

As soon as everyone sat down, the teenager pressed a few buttons, and the rink crackled to life.

The cars leaped forward as the friends locked eyes on each other, staking their first targets. Nick and Warrick went for each other immediately.

Sara and Catherine exchanged a silent look and began a game of chase-and-be-chased, as Greg began seeking out any car that contained a cute girl. Grissom chose to go on the defensive, swerving little kids and teens alike.

While trying to slam Catherine, Sara accidentally bumped into Nick. Turning to her, Nick gave her an evil smirk before giving chase for revenge. Sara giggled hysterically as Greg, too, joined in the chase.

Warrick, who had moved on to Catherine while Nick was occupied, quickly abandoned his prey to aid Nick and Greg in their hot pursuit of Sara.

Catherine, quickly assessing the situation, came to Sara's aid, trying to smash into the guys hunting her. Grissom came to Sara's aid too, successfully sending Greg flying into a corner.

The two "sides" quickly became apparent as Warrick and Nick leapt after Grissom to get revenge for their fallen teammate.

Sara and Catherine rushed to Grissom's defense, facing against Nick and Warrick. Grissom smirked, glad to have both ladies on his side.

He then spun around to face Greg, who had just recovered and was doing a lap around the rink to buy himself time.

Grissom patiently waited for Greg to finish, then pushed him into Nick and Warrick, who had been pinned against a corner by the ladies.

For a second, it looked as if Sara, Grissom, and Catherine had won, but then four little kids slammed into them, knocking out of the way. "No ganging up on people!" They screeched.

Warrick, Greg, and Nick, freed from their trap, scooted away, laughing hysterically.

The other three CSIs were about to go chase them, but their cars slowed to a stop, as did all the rest of the cars, as the teenager intoned in a monotonous voice, "Thank you for riding the Bumper Cars. Please enjoy the rest of your day at Six Flags Discovery Kingdom."

Catching their breaths, they all stumbled off the rink, guffawing uncontrollably.

"That was… awesome…" Warrick choked out.

"Only because… those kids stopped us… from winning…" Sara gasped.

Suddenly, the amusement park's intercom announced it would be closing in an hour, and that for ten minutes only, if you bought one shirt at the Discovery Depot, you got two free.

Paying no attention to the intercom, Warrick said, "So, shall we go to Medusa?"

"To Medusa we shall go!" Greg cried, and the six trooped off to brave the intimidating line.

Surprisingly, they reached the front in only a matter of minutes. Since there were only four chairs per row, Nick and Warrick grabbed Sara and plopped her down between them. Greg was about to protest, but Catherine just squeezed his arm and shushed him, so he joined her and Grissom in the row behind them.

Within seconds, the gates shut, the attendant flicked a few switches, and they were off. The car flew down the green-and-purple tracks as if it had wings. Sara gripped Warrick's hand with one of hers, and clutched Nick's in the other, as she heard Greg's girlish, high-pitched squeal from behind her.

But it was over all too soon. Even though it felt like only milliseconds had passed by. The car gently rolled to a stop in front of the gates, where more eager people of all ages waited to get one last ride before the park closed.

As the gang tromped down the stairs, gasping for breath and laughing uncontrollably, they happened to pass by a booth where pictures were being shown on small TV screens.

Catherine squinted. "Isn't that us?" She pointed to one of the screens.

And indeed it was. Three in front, three in back, screaming their heads off, huge smiles plastered on their faces.

_There must have been a camera somewhere,_ Sara thought as her friends laughed at how stupid they looked, then quickly agreed to buy the pictures. Sara bought a wallet-sized one and an 8x10.

Their laughter was cut short by the park's intercom again, announcing its closing in a half hour. Reluctantly, the friends headed for Nick's van.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **

**Sara: Well, well, look who's back. Where have you been?**

**Me: Sorry, Sara, I've just been really busy. Finals are this week, and, you know... life catches up.**

**Sara: Don't apologize to me. All your fans have been waiting eagerly for the new chapter. What, do you think your life is more important than Short Shorts and Morphos?**

**Grissom: What's this about life being more important than Short Shorts and Morphos?**

**Me: Well, hello to you too, Grissom.**

**Grissom: Hello.**

**Sara: Anyways, we just wanted to tell you you're forgetting something.**

**Me: I am?**

**Grissom: Yep. You've forgotten it every single chapter.**

**Me: What exactly is it?**

**Sara: Wow, something tells me you wouldn't make a good CSI. **

**Grissom: Hey, be nice. Are you still upset about yesterday at Six Flags?**

**Sara: I refuse to discuss that subject. **

**Grissom: Look, I said I was sor-**

**Sara: Moving on!  
**

**Me: Guys! I need to know what I've been forgetting!**

**Grissom: I apologize for my CSI's rudeness. **

**Sara: I apologize for my supervisor's uppityness.**

**Me: Will you two stop and tell me what it is already?**

**Sara: Touchy, touchy.**

**Grissom: Think carefully. To who does the story of Short Shorts and Morphos belong to?**

**Me: Well, me, of course!**

**Grissom: Correct. Now, who owns the characters (well, most of them) in Short Shorts and Morphos?**

**Me: CBS Studios/Mr. Zuiker... SHOOT. I need to say if characters don't belong to me, right?  
**

**Sara: That's the law.  
**

**Me: Am I gonna get sued now?**

**Grissom: Do it right now, and you probably won't.**

**Me: Okay! So most of the characters belong to CBS! But the plot is all mine! :D**

**Please enjoy Chapter 8!  
**

SUNDAY

Blue eyes slowly cracked open. They darted about the hotel room.

They then blinked sleepily, trying to hold on to the last fleeting fragments of the owner's latest erotic dream.

Kissing the woman of his dreams yesterday, of course, had spurred his dreams into a chaotic celebration.

Sara's lips had been just as soft, if not softer, as Grissom had imagined. They had tasted _so_ delicious- sweet and smooth… with just a hint of pizza.

He shook his head angrily, trying to get the thoughts out of his mind. He could not have Sara; he had told himself that innumerable times.

_Then why can't you just let go of her, and let her move on?_

Groaning, he stood and, after tiptoeing around the bed of a snoring Warrick, slipped into the bathroom for an invigorating hot shower.

As he lathered shampoo into his hair, he heard Warrick mumble something and groan. _Looks like someone's up._

XXXXX

Oak-brown eyes twitched slowly to life. Chestnut hair, turned bronze by the watery sunlight, obscured their line of vision.

A hand floated up and nudged them away, brushing by a tearstained pillow as they did so. The eyes grew dark as memories of the day before flooded back into the owner's mind.

The hand moved down to grab its counterpart, and curled around its wrist. An intricate bracelet from which a petite butterfly hung was pushed up the arm. Fingers danced delicately across the scratches from two days before.

Sara's nose twitched.

She flopped over to check if Catherine was up, and was simultaneously aware of the incessant noise of a blow dryer coming from the bathroom.

Tumbling out of bed, she groped about in her suitcase for her favorite scarlet top. _Today is a new day._

The blow dryer was clicked off as Catherine emerged, running a hand through her perfectly groomed, strawberry-blonde tresses. "Good morning, sunshine." She chirped, obviously in a cheerful mood.

"Morning," Sara mumbled in reply.

XXXXX

MONDAY (SARA)

The rest of the vacation went by like a blur, and before they knew it, they were back at the lab, handling decomps and 419s.

She had been, admittedly, eager to wrap her mind back around her case. Upon discussing it with Greg, he excitedly began coming up with names for the new serial killer, and came up with "The Arisse Killer", after the six letters found so far. Grissom, of course, had chided her and Greg, telling her that he or she wasn't technically a serial killer yet.

Unfortunately, the culprit left almost no evidence at the crime scenes, leading her and Grissom to believe the crime scenes were only dump scenes, but there weren't any tire tracks or footprints at the scene, either.

She crouched over the light table, studying the photos Grissom had taken at the scenes. Her eyes narrowed, the gears in her brain chugging along furiously.

Her train of thought was suddenly interrupted as her phone, clipped onto her belt, began buzzing.

She tore the phone away from her hip, momentarily pissed, until she saw the blinking caller ID. _Grissom._

She sighed, and flipped it open. "Sidle."

MONDAY (GRISSOM)

Grissom groaned as he finished up his paperwork. The sun was creeping up over the Nevada hills, signifying the approaching end of the shift. He could not, however, say the same for his case.

His phone suddenly beeped. He flipped it open. "Grissom," he said into the receiver.

"Up for a trip to Reno?" Came Brass' voice from the other end.

XXXXXXX

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" Grissom said.

He and Brass were in Grissom's office. Grissom had called him in as soon as he heard the name of that godforsaken city.

Brass leaned back, and exhaled. His breath came out in a hiss. "The body of a thirty-five-year-old woman was found in a park in Reno. There was a blue butterfly pinned to her chest, and there are three letters on her neck. Grissom, the similarities can't be a coincidence- we've got a serial killer on our hands."

He sighed. "Okay, so what are we going to do about it?"

Brass smiled. "Road trip."

Grissom groaned and put his head in his hands. "Is this necessary? Reno gives me headaches."

"Gil, this is absolutely necessary." Brass retorted. After a moment, he coaxed, "We've already arranged for a suite in a swanky hotel!"

"Fine!" Grissom said abruptly. "I'll tell Sara."

Brass grinned. "Excellent. You guys leave tonight."

He stood and left the room. Smirking, Grissom picked up his phone and hit speed dial four.

After two rings, a slightly sultry, saucy feminine voice said, "Sidle."

"Want to go spend a few days in Reno with me?" Grissom replied, fully aware of how strange it sounded.

He heard Sara cough. "Excuse me?"

He laughed. "Brass says they found another body in Reno. Same butterfly, same letters on neck, same age, etc."

"Looks like we've got us a serial killer."

"Brass has already got us hotel reservations. We leave tonight."

-Saturday Evening-

Grissom met Sara at the airport at exactly 1:37 AM. They each brought very small carry-ons: Grissom his laptop bag (with laptop) and his energy bars, and Sara a simple purse full of detective novels, makeup, and Tic Tacs. The flight was only an hour and a half, but each did not wish to be bored.

Now he and Sara waited in line to board the plane. Grissom smiled faintly when he noticed the airline was Delta.

"Bring back any memories?" He said to her mockingly, pointing out the name of the airline stenciled onto the plane.

Sara was about to turn to him with a witty retort, but her eyes suddenly became fixated on something farther up ahead in the line. "Uh… yeah."

Grissom frowned. "Sara? Are you all right?"

Following Sara's line of vision, Grissom spotted a flight attendant about a yard away from them, checking off the passports. Grissom was close enough to see the man's nametag, proudly proclaiming his name- "Kenneth".

Grissom's eyebrows knitted together as he scrutinized the man. The height was the same, the build was the same…

As he was checking the man against the picture of Ken he had stored in his mind, Sara anxiously pulled at his arm. "We're getting closer," she hissed.

The corners of Grissom's mouth turned towards the sky, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Don't worry, I'm right here," he murmured.

Their turn arrived. Grissom handed both of their tickets and passports to Kenneth, who hastily checked them. "Enjoy your flight on Delta Airlines," he mumbled, and his gaze rose to meet Grissom's.

Grissom was relieved to see that both of Kenneth's eyes were green.

As he and Sara walked away, Kenneth watched their retreating figures. He grinned as he watched their retreating figures, his gold butterfly crown gleaming brilliantly under the harsh fluorescent lights of the airport.

"Excuse me, sir, we'd like to get in the plane, please," said an irritated voice of a passenger waiting to board.

Kenneth turned. "So sorry, ma'am. I just had something in my contact."

Sara and Grissom walked down the sleeve side by side.

"What seats do we have?" he asked, too lazy to check his own ticket.

Popping a Tic Tac into her mouth, Sara pulled out her ticket to find out. "I have 12-B," she replied, "so you probably have 12-A." She paused. "Ha! I get window!" She exclaimed triumphantly. And with that, she sauntered ahead of him into the airplane.

Grissom's face softened as he watched her retreating figure. He sighed, and slowly followed her into the plane.

When he arrived at their row, Sara was already seated, her purse between her feet, and a mystery novel in her hands.

She glanced up at him. "Slowpoke."

He only grunted in reply and settled in the seat beside her. Then it was silent, as she read her magazine and he opened up his laptop.

Several minutes later, the plane jerked suddenly, as it began to taxi away from the terminal. Sara instantly abandoned her book, turned, and pressed her face to the window, eager to see the take-off.

Grissom stared tenderly at her. It was so... endearing. Seeing her act like a child, nose smooshed against the window, waiting for the moment the airplane defied gravity and lost contact with the pavement of the runway. She seemed... at peace.

The plane shuddered as it reached the runway and revved its engine. Then, it began hurtling down the runway so fast, Grissom felt as if they were nearing the speed of light.

Soon, he felt the familiar dip in his stomach as the air lifted the plane up off the ground, and the plane's nose tilted upwards.

Sara turned back to him, a fresh smile on her face. "It never gets old."

It was then silent for half an hour while she read, and he worked. Suddenly, Sara yawned. Loudly.

"Tired?" Grissom inquired, a sympathetic smile on his face.

"Too many doubles and triples," she murmured, taking the airline's complimentary pillow and putting it behind her head. Her eyes fluttered shut.

Grissom carefully took the book that she had neglected to put down, bookmarked her page, and tucked into the seat pocket. "Get some sleep," he whispered in reply.

Sara snuggled up to the pillow, and her breathing quickly became regular and even. Grissom watched her for a few seconds, then returned to his laptop.

Another half hour passed. Grissom turned to check on Sara, and was surprised that he had failed to notice her head nestled on the dip made by his neck and shoulder. A faint smile was on her lips as she slept.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, as he studied the tawny-haired beauty snuggled beside him. He felt the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and her warm breath tickled his neck.

He sighed, and let his head rest on hers. Her hair tickled his ear.

What was it about this enigmatic spitfire that always had him so captivated? He had always wondered why it was she he had ended up favoring, and not Catherine, the more obvious choice. It always had bugged him that Sara never considered herself pretty. The gap in her teeth that she found unattractive, he found adorable. In his opinion, her smattering of freckles only highlighted her beauty, while she thought they made her look like childish.

It pained him to want her. He wanted her, and he couldn't have her.

He let his mind wander to all those countless times they'd flirted; all the glances, the smiles, the hidden emotion- well, sometimes hidden…

_"...Two minutes elbowing... four minutes high-sticking... ten minutes unsportsmanlike conduct." Grissom read aloud from the case file._

_ "Boys will be boys," Sara tisked. She shivered from the cold air in the hockey rink and pulled her beanie over her ears._

_ Grissom snorted. "Yeah, sounds like these boys went to a fight, and a hockey game broke out."_

_ Sara giggled at his dry humor. "You just don't like sports."_

_ "That's not true, I've been a baseball fan my whole life!" He retorted._

_ "Baseball? Hm, that figures! All those stats..."_

_ At that very moment, thousands of stats ran through Grissom mind. Tim Lincecum's ERA, Buster Posey's RBI, Cody Ross's batting average. His brain rejected them all- none of them would impress Sara._

_ "It's a beautiful game," he said finally._

_ "Since when are you interested in beauty?" She teased._

_ "Since I met you." _

_ Grissom hadn't meant to blurt that out. He cursed himself inwardly._

_ It was silent as Sara glanced at Grissom from the corners of her eyes. Her mouth formed a small _O _as her eyebrows knitted together in surprise and confusion._

Just stay calm,_ he thought to himself, and he continued flipping through the case file as if nothing happened._

_ Sara then turned to him, about to say something. Not wanting to hear, Grissom interjected, "So, we'll start at the opposite goals, and work our way across to center ice?" He kept his eyes away from hers, instead choosing to focus on the hockey rink in front of them._

_ "Yeah, uh, sure," Sara replied after a moment. Grissom stood and began making his way to the rink, but he watched Sara through her reflection in the windows that surrounded the rink._

_ She watched him walk, and a smile slowly spread across her face. _

Not unlike Sara's eyebrows had done, Grissom's scrunched up like caterpillars, watching Sara sleep.

Suddenly, she squirmed slightly, and her eyes slowly flickered open.

Grissom leaned to murmur "Good morning, sunshine," into her ear.

Her head turned slightly, her brain registering exactly where her head was. "Ah, God... I'm sorry, Grissom." Her voice was heavy with sleep and embarrassment.

Grissom's shoulder suddenly felt cold and empty as she lifted her head, and ran her hand through her hair.

"How long was I out?" Sara asked, trying to divert the attention away from her awkward situation.

"Oh, about an hour," he replied.

Suddenly she stiffened. "Damn! My book; I must have lost the freaking bookmark!"

Grissom smiled and handed it to her, showing off the dog-eared page. "I got you covered."

She sighed with relief. "Thanks."

Suddenly the airplane's intercom crackled to life. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We will be landing in Reno shortly. Thank you for flying Delta Airlines."

Sara shuddered. "I still get goosebumps hearing the name."

Grissom chuckled.

She then turned away from him to face the window as the plane slowly lost altitude. Within a few seconds, they slipped through the layer of clouds, enabling them to see the night skyline of Reno.

Twinkling lights of all sorts shone like a beacon through the dark. Dark silhouettes of buildings were barely visible as cars zipped around them. Neon letters flashed harshly, declaring names of various casinos.

The plane shuddered suddenly as it landed on the runway. Sara sighed contentedly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Reno," intoned the intercom.

SUNDAY

Grissom tipped the cab driver as Sara rather elegantly got out of the car. She went to the trunk and got their bags with surprising strength.

Once inside, Grissom went to the receptionist desk, leaving Sara and their bags to recline on many elegant couches in the lobby.

"Hello, sir, welcome to the Grand Sierra Resort. Are you checking in?"

"Yes, uh, there should be a reservation under the Las Vegas Police Department?"

The receptionist raised his eyebrows. "Ah, you are..." He checked his computer. "Gilbert Grissom?"

Grissom cursed under his breath. _Why_ had they used his full name? "Uh, yeah, that's me."

"And your colleague? Ah..." He checked the screen again. "Sara Sidle?"

"Yeah, she's here. She's over there." He jerked his thumb back at the resting CSI.

"Thank you." The receptionist began clacking away on the keyboard.

After a few minutes, the receptionist said finally, "Thank you, Mr. Grissom. Here is your key card. You are in Suite 7-19-18. The seven is the floor, the nineteen is the hallway, the eighteen is the room. Please do not hesitate to ask if there is anything you need. Enjoy your stay."

Grissom walked over to Sara, and grabbed his bag. "Come on; we've got the seventh floor."

XXXXXXX

Grissom trudged slowly down the never-ending hallway. His feet dragged, his eyelids drooped. He was tired.

"What room did the receptionist say we had?" Sara's fatigued voice came from behind him.

"Seventh floor, nineteenth hallway, eighteenth room," was the lethargic reply.

"What kind of hotel has that many hallways in one floor? What kind of hotel even _numbers_ their hallways?" Sara complained exasperatedly.

Grissom could only offer a shrug as they finally found the nineteenth hallway. Sighing, they turned and trundled on until they finally found their suite.

"Thank God," Sara sighed as Grissom slid the key card through. The door opened smoothly.

The suite was very tastefully decorated, with shades of green, purple, and beige. A huge Tempur-Pedic bed stood opposite a flat-screen TV. There was a large bathroom, and the balcony allowed for a beautiful view of Reno.

Sara flopped down onto the bed with relief. "This bed is so damn comfy!" She screamed into the sheets.

"Don't get too comfortable, we need to go investigate the body." Grissom warned. He chose not to mention the fact that there was only one bed…

Sara groaned. "Why can't we spend the day in the hotel?"

"Because this is a business trip." Grissom returned, smiling sweetly.

"It's so goddamn unfair!" She whined into the pillow.

"Come on, sunshine." Before Grissom could think twice, he wrapped his arms around her waist and gently tugged. When he had pulled her to a standing position, he noticed with slight embarrassment that now not only were his arms on her waist, but they were standing rather close to each other.

If Sara was surprised at the intimate touch, she did not show it. Instead, she mumbled a thank-you and traipsed to the bathroom to freshen up.

Grissom sighed and soon busied himself with unpacking.

A few minutes later, Sara emerged with freshly applied makeup, brushed teeth, and hair done perfectly, the copper tinge accentuating her beauty. "Ready?"

"Let's move."

XXXXXX

The Reno lab gave them a friendly welcome. The coroner there was even friendlier. Her name was Diana Polizzi. The name made Sara wrinkle her nose. She disliked how it sounded so... aristocratic.

"Hello, Grissom and Sidle. Welcome to Reno," she said, wearing a warm smile.

"Thank you. Let's, uh, get right to work, shall we?" Sara said abruptly, not really liking how Grissom had a hard time taking his eyes off the blonde beauty.

"The victim was found off a bike path in a state park. We estimate cause of death as strangulation." Diana pulled back the sheet, exposing the auburn-haired, lifeless woman.

Grissom frowned. It seemed hair was a recurring pattern as well. "And there was a blue butterfly on the chest, correct?"

"Yes, our resident bug expert has identified it as a Morpho butterfly. Here are the pictures," she responded, sliding them across the examination table.

As Grissom shuffled through them, Sara questioned "And there are three letters on her neck, right?"

Diana brushed back the woman's hair, indeed revealing the letters LDA. "The searches we ran for the letters found nothing. I'm thinking it means nothing unless the letters are combined with the other ones you found."

Sara pursed her lips. At least Little Miss Aristocrat wasn't a dumb ass.

"Do you, uh, still have the butterfly?" Grissom inquired.

"Of course." Diana replied. She ducked under the table and brought out a container not unlike the one that held Sara's own butterfly from last Christmas.

Suddenly someone knocked at the door. All three of them turned to see a handsome, salt-and-pepper-haired man standing in the doorframe. "Diana, we're all going out for lunch. Care to join?"

Sara smiled faintly as she noticed Diana's blush. "Sure, Tony." She turned to Sara and Grissom. "This is CSI Level 3 Tony Galarza. Tony, these are CSIs from Las Vegas."

Tony smiled broadly. "Ah, foreigners from Sin City!" He announced in a dramatic baritone. He shook each hand warmly. "Welcome."

He turned to Diana. "Are you coming?"

Diana, in turn, faced Sara and Grissom. "Staff lunch... I should, uh, probably go. You can go visit the crime scene if you want, or run some tests on the body or butterfly. What's ours is yours." She smiled once more, then patted the crime file sitting on the table and left with Tony.

Sara immediately walked over to the whiteboard that loomed in the corner. "I'm sure they won't mind if we use this," she said, grabbing a marker.

She carefully drew a large T. On one side of the T, she wrote, "similarities". On the other, she copied down all the letters collected from the bodies thus far.

Tapping the left side of the T, she said, "We'll start with similarities."

Grissom grabbed a chair and plopped down. "All right."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey, guys! Funk missed you all! I am indescribably sorry for the long delay in this chapter. And sorry it's a short one, but I felt the need to update quickly, before I lost my audience.**

**I know I'm late in saying this, but in reference to the episode The Two Mrs. Grissoms (and pardon my sounding like a little scoolgirl)- SQUEE! SQUEE!**

**That was the greatest episode I've seen in a while. Seeing William Petersen back (at least temporarily) made my day. And guess what? The gossip columns claim that someday there will actually be a dinner scene with the three Grissoms! I'm excited beyond words.**

**Another reason I've been neglecting SSM is because I hatched a new plot after watching some reruns of CSI on Spike. It's still a work in progress, but look out for it soon! I was getting tired of the fluffy feel of SSM. **

**Anyways, enough of my rambling. Enjoy Chapter 9!**

**-Funk  
**

**LATER ON**

Half an hour later, Sara and Grissom had compiled a lengthy list of similarities. Similar hair color, same age, same butterfly, same lack of evidence…

Grissom noticed that although he and Sara had mended the tear in their friendship since their little episode at Six Flags, she had been strangely aloof since their arrival in Reno.

He watched her now, watched her chestnut hair get turned to strands of gold by the watery sunlight that filtered through the window. He watched as she cutely bit her bottom lip, trying to make more connections between the three different incidents. He watched as she crossed her long, denim-wrapped legs and tapped her sneaker-clad foot impatiently.

After a few minutes of silence, Grissom gently suggested, "Shall we move on to the letters?"

Sara jumped, startled out of her deep thinking- which, by the way, had "absolutely nothing" to do with Grissom.

Grissom gave a little half-smile. "Sorry."

He grabbed another marker and moved so that he was next to Sara, the tall whiteboard looming before them.

Uncapping the marker, he drew another line, dividing the column in two. "Five minutes on the clock. Come up with as many words as you can. Got it?"

Sara's eyes gleamed, eager for competition. "Let's do it."

Grissom set his digital watch to "timer" mode. "Three... two… one… go."

_Beep._

For the next five minutes, all that could be heard was the irritating squeak of the markers, as supervisor and subordinate scribbled furiously, him in blue, her in black.

Both visibly started as Grissom's watch called time with an obnoxious _beep_. They stepped back from the whiteboard and simultaneously sat down and began stretching out their hands in an effort to make the cramping go away.

"What'd you get?" Sara managed in between groans of pain.

"Sea, leis, sail, deli, aide, dare, sire, dear, sides, rises, laser, aerial, asides, slider, aidless, dialers, salaried, salaries." Grissom read. "You?"

Sara returned fire with a list of her own, but said each word slowly and deliberately. "Lie. Liar. Lied. Lies. Dear…" With every word, Grissom could feel her eyes boring into his, her deliberate voice almost making it seem like each word was describing him. "Lard. Assailer. Ass. Arse."

Grissom, no longer able to stand the uncomfortable, itchy feel of her stormy eyes on him, quickly interjected. "Sara, what is this about?"

Loftily, she replied, "Oh… nothing. Nothing at all."

Grissom gave her a hard stare. "Don't give me that crap."

Sara said nothing, only returning the stare with equal, if not more, intensity.

Grissom broke first. Tearing his gaze away from hers, he timidly queried, "Does this have something to do with what happened at Six Flags?"

Sara's eyes flashed. "Grissom, I've already heard your opinion on that. I don't need a recap, thank you very much."

Steepling his fingers, Grissom pondered how to handle this situation. He wanted Sara to know how he felt, he really did… but could either of them handle the pain of not being together?

Sara's eyes, sharp as flint, scrutinized him. When he remained motionless, she gave a frustrated grunt and stood. "I'm going out for a breather."

Grissom opened his mouth to object, but Sara disappeared out the door before he could utter a word.

Sighing, Grissom stood. He knew he should go after her- after all, wasn't that what all women wanted?- but something kept him rooted to the spot.

He instead stared at Sara's list, the majority of them obviously related to him in some way. He forced his legs to move, and painstakingly walked to the whiteboard.

Grabbing his marker, he uncapped it and absentmindedly wrote an S. _S for Sara. _He idly began formulating more words as he thought.

_A._

Here he was, a fifty-year-old crustacean with an irrevocable fascination for bugs, hopelessly in love with a gorgeous, intelligent woman who, as the teens put it, was "out of his league". She was everything he wanted in a woman- and everything he didn't deserve.

_R._

He wasn't even sure what Sara saw in him. Yes, in his younger days, he was quite the hunk- but his hair was graying more and more every day. He had even begun to sardonically expect retirement home brochures hidden amongst his mail.

_A._

He hated seeing Sara in pain, he really did. After all, he loved her and he hated to see her upset. But his mind kept whispering to him fabricated tales of how she would be ten times unhappier if she were to be with him.

_S._

Grissom honestly wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms, forever. But he-

He stopped.

He looked at the letters he had written on the board. His heart racing faster every minute, he scanned the letters he had yet to write down.

Hurriedly, his sharpened mind unscrambled the remaining letters, and his hand, trembling, wrote them out next to his previous scribblings.

Jaw agape, he stepped back and let his eyes dart over his work. Beads of sweat formed along his hairline as his mouth suddenly felt dry.

Suddenly springing into action, he tossed the marker back on the table and quickly swept out of the room, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he did so.

He dialed speed dial two, the number he saved for the lab. Putting the phone to his ear, he cast one last glance back at the whiteboard.

The whiteboard. Once a pearly white, it was now covered in writing. The similarities. His list of words. Sara's list of words.

And then, below, Grissom's writing. In his neat, blue handwriting, he had written the letters once more- ARISSELDA.

And, directly underneath it, in uncharacteristically shaky handwriting- SARA SIDLE.

**A/N: Ooh, cliffhanger. Sorry to leave you hanging!**

**Oh, geez, that was awful. My apologies. Anyways, reviews make my day :D So go ahead and press that button!  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**a/n: Hey, guys! Thank you so much for the reviews, they made my day! So much so, in fact, I decided to give you all an extra mini-chapter from Sara's POV. I love you all. Sorry if I did not respond to your review, I appreciate it all the same.**

**Soo, news on the street is Lady Heather is returning. I hope she and Sara get into a chick fight so Lady Heather can get her butt kicked :D**

**Anyways, enjoy!  
**

SARA'S POV

"I'm going out for a breather," she grunted. Not giving her supervisor a chance to reply, she shoved the door open and stormed out.

She was in such a furious state, she was barely able to navigate the unfamiliar hallways, and was grateful when she finally found the front desk- and the front door.

"Did you find everything okay, Miss Sidle?" The receptionist queried politely.

Turning to face her, Sara put on a fake smile. "Oh, yes, just… peachy. But could you tell me where the nearest café is?"

"Oh, of course!" The receptionist responded. Standing, she gestured out the door. "The one our CSIs enjoy most is right down the block. Simply make a left at the parking lot and continue until you find Café Trieste. Tell them you're one of us, they'll treat you well."

Sara simply nodded a thank you and left.

She found the café in a matter of minutes. A quaint, Latino restaurant, the walls were adorned with sombreros and maracas. Mariachi music played softly.

Mustering as much spirit as she could, she plastered on another false grin and stepped in.

The barrista, immediately noticing her CSI vest, walked around the counter to greet her and personally escort her to a booth he claimed was reserved for the law enforcement.

Sara nodded a thank you and ordered a mocha latte.

The coffee came in a matter of minutes, but Sara barely touched it. She only listlessly pushed the stirrer around and around and around the cup.

She felt like she was in high school again. The typical crush on the impossible-to-get guy, obsessing over him even though, deep down, you know it's useless.

The tiniest things he does makes your day. Whether it's a smile, a joke, or even a hug- your day gets infinitely better.

Feeling depressed, Sara unconsciously took a sip of her coffee, not even flinching when the creamy liquid burned her throat.

Putting her head in her hands, she pondered what to do about her and Grissom. Romantic feelings aside, she valued Grissom's friendship, because he was an intelligent, witty man. Not to mention he was her supervisor.

No, she would not sever her friendship with Grissom. She would have to make do with only being friends.

With a burst of energy, she suddenly downed her drink in a few gulps. Standing, she tossed the cup into the trash and walked out the door.

She wasn't all too sure where she was going, but she enjoyed taking walks. The fresh air helped clear her mind.

She strolled down some major street; she was too absorbed in thought to find the name. She walked past a grocery store, pausing only to let a red sedan drive into the parking lot.

She even began humming a tune as her brain became enveloped in thought.

So much so, that she failed to notice the brunette man hop out of the red sedan as she walked by it, and scrutinize her with mismatching eyes.

She didn't notice a thing.

That is, until she felt a strong hand grab her wrist.

And hot breath scorch her back.

And she heard Ken's menacing purr, "Good night, sweetheart," as she felt a needle prick her forearm.

**a/n: Another cliffhanger, I know! I'm sorry! D: R&Rs are appreciated :D**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Wow, you guys were ready to have me drawn and quartered for the cliffhanger! I'm really sorry about that, guys. I just didn't know how else to end the chapter. I'll try to avoid them, unless necessary :D**

**On a lighter note, Lady Heather returned! It's not that I like her, but I was quite entertained by her career choice. I hope you guys loved the episode too.**

**I'm working on a super-secret project for you guys. I've mentioned it once or twice before; it's another fanfic I'm working on. It centers mainly around Catherine, but Sara plays a pretty big part too. I hope you guys will enjoy it. If everything goes according to plan, the first chapter should be up by the end of the month. So look out for it!**

**One thing I think I forgot to mention- the hotel Sara and Grissom are staying at is the Grand Sierra Resort. Yes, it is an actual resort in the Reno area- check out the initials. I couldn't help it :D And their room number is related too. I'll let you guys figure that one out.**

**But enough of me. Here's chapter 11!**

Grissom muttered unintelligible curses as he whipped through the Reno lab's corridors, phone pressed anxiously to his ear. He mumbled apologies to anyone he bumped into, out of habit.

After two agonizingly long rings, he heard his assistant supervisor's chirpy voice. "You two having a good time in Reno?" She asked, putting emphasis on "good time".

"No, Catherine, we have a 427/444." He replied in a controlled tone. "I want info on Kenneth Fuller emailed to me in five minutes. Sara's stalker is the Arisse Killer, and he was after Sara the entire time."

Not giving the shocked strawberry-blonde a chance to reply, he hung up and continued down the hall until he reached the front desk.

"Mr. Grissom?" A polite, perky voice inquired from behind him.

He turned to find the receptionist smiling at him. "Your companion, Ms. Sidle, left a few minutes ago. She went to the café down the block."

Grissom murmured a hurried thank-you and briskly jogged outside.

Upon reaching the café, he peered through the window; pleading with all his heart he would see her trademark chestnut hair. But there was none.

Cursing yet again, he went farther down the street, ocean-blue eyes darting about in worry.

He yelped and jumped out of the way as he was almost run over by a red sedan peeling out of a parking lot near a grocery store. It was times like these he wished he were a highway patrol officer.

The sedan floored it, and peeled out of the lot and down the street. Grissom tisked at the driver's hurry.

His phone buzzed, and he eagerly flipped it open, only to hear a barrage of words from Brass.

"Grissom, what's going on? Catherine tells me you called a 427/444. You're not even in Vegas, you should let the Reno officers make the calls." He paused a moment, realizing what he had just said. "Wait, why is there a 427/444?"

Grissom sighed, the breath coming out from between his teeth like a hiss. "Jim, we were stupid to not have seen it earlier. It all adds up. Ken Fuller, Sara's stalker, is the Arisse killer. All the women he killed looked like her, the letters on their necks even spell out her name! And-"

"Whoa, easy, Griss," Brass cautioned. "Where is Sara right now?"

The Vegas lab supervisor sighed in defeat and ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper curls. "Probably kidnapped. By Ken."

"And you weren't with her?"

"She had gone down the street to get coffee, Jim." Well, it wasn't a lie- wasn't the truth, either, though.

As Brass began to reply, Grissom was shocked to notice something on the ground. He stooped to get a better look.

His jaw fell open slightly as he gently picked up Sara's butterfly bracelet. The cheap clasp had been torn off, and the butterfly charm had almost escaped the chain altogether.

_But how did it get here?_

His mind flashed back to just a minute ago, retracing his steps. _The red sedan… fuck._

"Jim!" He shouted, interrupting the other man's tirade. "I need a statewide alert for a red 1990's sedan. I just found Sara's bracelet."

Brass, a bit miffed at being cut off, curtly replied, 'A license plate would be helpful, Gil."

"I don't have it, okay?" Grissom retorted. "It should be in Ken's info. I told Catherine to look it up."

Again not letting his co-worker reply, he clicked the phone shut.

Grissom's eyes rolled up to the sky as he fingered Sara's bracelet. It was still warm, having only recently being separated from its owner. Hell, it even still smelled like her.

His phone vibrated once again, and he flipped it open, slightly annoyed.

"Gil, we're coming out there." Catherine told him.

Not that Grissom had any objection.

"Sara is our family too. And we're not sitting around waiting for news like the days CSIs," she continued, trying to make her case.

Despite the situation, Grissom chuckled. "Catherine, I never said the team couldn't come."

It was silent for a moment. "Oh. All right. We'll be there by evening."

XXXXX

He had no time to buckle up; he only threw the gear forward and floored it out of the parking lot.

He swerved suddenly to avoid an elderly man walking past. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw ice-blue eyes staring at him with contempt. Suddenly, the face clicked.

It was Grissom. Grissom was CSI. CSI meant law enforcement. Which meant he was in danger of being caught.

His foot inched down on the accelerator, trying to escape Grissom's gaze as fast as possible. He forced it to relax. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself by speeding.

His unconscious captive huddled in the backseat, her angelic face tucked into one arm. He didn't have much time left before she woke up.

**A/N: R&Rs are very much appreciated! Your reviews really make my day and inspire me to write. If it weren't for you guys, this fanfic would probably be abandoned.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hello hello! Funk is back!**

**I am so sorry for taking so long to update. There has been a lot of stuff going on, and I actually wrote all this within 2 hours. So I apologize if it's crap.**

**Can I just say that season finale was full of suspense? I can't say I like Ray, but my heart clenched when I all he and his ex-wife had to go through.**

**And it gave me some great ideas for how to end this story :D**

**That's it for me! Hope you enjoy SSM 12! Please don't forget to review, guys. This is the only way I can know for sure whether or not I do a good job. It really affects my writing, and sometimes they can totally turn a terrible day around. So please review!**

Underwater.

She felt like she was underwater.

She was aware of sounds. She could hear them –motors roaring, people talking- but they were muted. She could only hear them if she strained her ears.

Her eyes were closed. She dared not open them, for the stems of a migraine pulsated in the back of her brain. But using her senses and her education, she deducted she was in a car- for the upholstery on whatever she was sitting on was certainly not a common type on household furniture. And being in a car would explain the rhythmic motor noises.

She soon realized she had no recollection of anything that happened before this moment. How she got here, where she was-

A shiver shook her as she grasped the fact that she didn't even remember her name.

The only thing she remembered was a face. A man's face. It was kind and warm and had a cute grey stubble. And blue eyes.

Beautiful, clear blue eyes.

Frowning, she decided to take her focus away from the mystery man and concentrate on remembering who she was. Her nose twitched as she delved deep into the recesses of her mind.

She could recall lights. Lots of bright, flashing lights. Neon lights. On buildings; on walls; on signs.

Could that be her workplace?

No. In her memory, a tall, cool building loomed. It was away from the lights.

She could suddenly envision herself standing in front of the building; in front of its sleek glass doors.

There were words emblazoned on them.

_Las Vegas Police Department Crime Lab._

A little nudge in her brain told her that this was indeed where she worked.

She pushed through the doors, and her feet instantly recognized the well-trodden path. They took control and gently guided her through the made of hallways.

She was taken past several rooms, full of beakers and baubles and all sorts of complex machinery. In almost every room sat at least one person enrobed in a white trench coat.

A frown crossed her face as she passed more and more rooms. Did she ever toil away in one of those rooms? Did she know any of the other people in the white garments?

In one of the rooms, there sat an oblong table. Mugs of coffee were lined up along each side, each with an owner sitting behind it.

As she took this all in, she suddenly noticed the faces. They were concerned faces.

There was a strawberry blonde raking a manicured hand through her disheveled tresses, muttering incoherently.

A broad, strong, hunky gentleman with a buzz cut who absently toyed with the handle on his coffee mug.

A dark-skinned man with a slight afro, who conversed worriedly with a lanky guy with crazy dirty-blonde hair.

But there was something wrong.

She noted there were two empty chairs. The others glanced at these chairs occasionally, only to sigh despondently and look away.

Whose empty chairs were they? Why were they empty? And why was everyone worried?

She was startled when her feet carried her into the room. She tried to resist, for fear these people would see her. But they seemed oblivious to her.

She came to a stop at one of the empty chairs. Before she knew it, she had sat.

It felt right.

_This is my chair._

She turned to the other chair; the other chair with no owner. She wondered where the owner could be.

Wavy lines formed at the edge of her vision, and a silhouette of a person appeared in the chair. Cerulean eyes glowed for a brief second before the illusion disappeared altogether.

_Did the other chair belong to the blue-eyed man?_

But before she could try to think of the answer, her legs abruptly her up and carried her out of the room.

They took her to a space unlike the others. It was compact and dim.

A metal bench squatted in the middle of the room. Flanking each wall were rows of lockers.

Her feet carried her to one. The fifth locker on the right.

Her hands floated up to the lock guarding the metal cage. Alienated from the rest of her body, they spun a combination they apparently knew, and the door sprung open.

They made their way inside and seized hold of a rough cloth. The hands withdrew, revealing a navy vest.

Her eyebrows knitted together, her curiosity piqued. She turned the vest about in her hands, until she came across a nametag.

_Sidle._

Sidle?

_Sidle._

Her jaw clenched as she tried to recognize the word's significance. She knew enough to know it was likely a last name, for most law enforcement uniforms rarely had the first name printed.

But the mirage disintegrated as the motor rumble was abruptly cut short, and she heard a deep voice say, "We're here, sweetheart."

In vain, she tried to grasp the few fleeting fragments of the image; before it disappeared.

_Sidle._

_Sidle._

It suddenly came to her.

_Sidle. Sara Sidle._


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Whoa, how long has this new account set-up thingy been here? It totally threw me off. Just goes to show you how often I update e.e**

**Anyways, you guys, I'm really sorry SSM hasn't been updated in a while. It's for two reasons mainly. One is that there was a lot going on in my personal life. Finals, parental woes, you name it. But it's summer, so I should be able to keep a constant pace for a while. The other reason is that this chapter was really hard to write (I rewrote it five times). You're about to see why. But over half the time I was debating how far I should go with it. I didn't want to make any of you feel uncomfortable, so I decided to stop it where I did. It would really help if you guys gave me feedback on this.  
**

**Short Shorts and Morphos is nearing its end, unfortunately. Depending on how you guys like this chapter, there's a maximum of three to five chapters left for this story.**

**Which reminds me of the other reason why my updating is so slow- My mind can't seem to stop thinking of ideas! I'm already about three chapters into another fanfic (I might have mentioned it to you guys once or twice), and there are at least two more works in progress. Not to mention I need to get back to writing CSI song parodies...**

**OH! (Last thing, I promise!) Speaking of songs, I've recently fallen in love with the GSR score. Hopefully you all have heard of it. For those of you who haven't, it's the beautiful piano piece that plays in the background of most important GSR moments. The full one can be heard in Grissom's last scene. If you type in "the GSR score" into YouTube, you should find it no problem.**

**Thanks for bearing with me. I'm really sorry if I haven't been responded to your review, it's really hard for me to keep track of which ones I've replied to (I follow my emails). I promise to try and be better about that.**

**But enough about me. Without further ado, I now give you Chapter 13 of Short Shorts and Morphos!  
**

_Was he talking to me?_

Sara started as she felt cold hands wrap around her upper abdomen and thighs. But her instincts told her not to resist.

She played dead as the hands swept her off the car's backseat and carried her through the air. Her limbs swayed in sync to footsteps.

_Where am I?_

She opened her eyes to find herself being brought into some sort of crude shack. She was taken through the door and deposited on a simple, cheap bed. The mattress was hard, and the frame was made of a carbon-black iron.

A mismatched gaze met hers. "Oh, good, you're awake."

Sara tried to move, but found that her limbs felt numb and lethargic. When she tried to lift her arm, it only twitched in its futile attempt to follow her brain's commands.

A chuckle. "Sorry, sweetheart, I see the drug hasn't fully worn off. My apologies."

The tone was not at all apologetic.

Sara's eyes raked over Ken in fury. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ken only gave a small smile, as he walked around to the head of the bed, so he was standing behind her. Ever so gently, he seized hold of one of her wrists and pressed it against the wrought iron headboard.

Sara hissed sofly as she felt stabs of pain encircle her wrist. Her head managed to loll back to see Ken fastening her arm to the bed with barbed wire.

"The hell…?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head, sweetheart," he cooed as he repeated the process with the other arm, then her legs.

As soon as he had finished, he glanced at her and gave her a wicked grin.

"It's just like old times, huh, sweetheart?"

Sara could only gape. Was this his true goal?

"The only difference is there is no safeword this time." His brown eye gleamed as his gaze slipped appreciatively over her body.

Once again, Sara tried to struggle. He tittered at her efforts.

"But wait, I almost forgot the most important part!" He gave her a wink and left the room.

She tried to reach into her jeans pocket for her phone, and was quickly given a painful reminder of her restraints. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she realized something was off. Literally.

_Wait… where _are_ my jeans?_

She looked down to find herself outfitted in a knee-length satin teddy.

_Oh, god._

But before she knew it, the drug kicked in again, and she was out like a light.

XXX  
When Sara re-awakened, it took her eyes a minute to adjust to the darkness.

_How long was I asleep?_

She squirmed around and found that the mobility of her limbs had returned. She gave her fingers and toes an experimental wiggle.

_Oh, crap. Where's Ken?_

Almost as if on a cue, he walked in. Even in the poor lighting, she saw the gleam of his gold butterfly crown. Her eyes narrowed.

"Ken, what the hell are you doing." Even she was beginning to annoy herself with the monotony of the statement.

She expected a saccharine, honeyed response, in that suave purr of his. What she wasn't expecting was a hard, sharp-as-flint: "I'm taking back what is rightfully mine."

"Ken, we broke up –what – ten-odd years ago?"

His eyes blazed, and suddenly he lunged at her neck. She cringed and tried to pull away, but the barbed wire kept her rooted to the spot.

One hand was fastened around her neck- not tight enough to choke her; but enough to cause discomfort. "You left me." He straddled her, crouched, and leaned in close to her face.

She flinched at his breath. "Because you were abusing me!"

"Sara, it was roleplay!" His eyes glazed over and his free hand inched towards his crotch at the memory.

"Maybe at first! But then you stopped responding to our safeword, and you began to get violent. You were _raping_ me, Ken." Sara surprised herself at how controlled her voice sounded.

His temper took over and he slammed her head against the mattress in frustration. He grabbed an old rag and hastily folded it lengthwise. He jammed the middle of it in between her teeth and tied the two ends at the nape of her neck.

Sara screamed into the gag in fury and tried to lunge at him, but yet again, the pronged wires dug into her wrist, holding her back.

Ken laughed evilly. "Oh, we're going to have a great time, sweetheart."

XXXXX

You can ask any person on law enforcement- if you were to inquire what their favorite part of being on the side of the law was (other than helping the people); 99% would, without hesitation, reply that it was the fact that they never got tickets.

It was an unspoken rule among all police, that whether they were highway patrolmen or lab technicians, deputy sheriffs or detectives- you were to never, ever give one of your own a ticket. It would be like purposely making sure a buddy got a DUI when he was drunk. It just went against the law enforcement code of ethics.

Usually, Grissom was a part of the small 1% which did not take advantage of the no-ticket law. He felt as if it was unfair.

Today, however, was an entirely different story.

Taking the freeway to the airport to pick up his team, there was rarely a time when his car was going less than 80 mph. Swerving from lane to lane, he barked orders to Brass (who remained in Vegas) into his phone.

He switched lines for a brief second to check on the team's status.

"Grissom; we just got through customs. We'll be out front in five minutes." Catherine told him briskly.

Although Grissom knew Catherine couldn't see it, he nodded, and switched back to Brass.

Soon, he veered up to the designated pick-up traffic loop. Heads turned when his tires screeched in protest as he stomped on the brake in order to avoid overshooting the spot and missing where Catherine, Warrick, Nick, and Greg were waiting.

Grissom's fingers drummed impatiently on the steering while the others piled in. He was relieved when his assistant supervisor sat shotgun.

"Any updates?" She asked breathlessly.

He mutely shook his head. "God, Catherine… I don't even know where to start looking."

She gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Don't worry. We'll find her."

**A/N: Sorry for stopping it where I did; I wanted you guys to get this as soon as possible. Please R&R, they really affect this story and my writing in general. I don't care if they're good or bad, I always welcome constructive criticism. Thank you 3**


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